


Freedom To Choose

by Miko



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blackwatch Era, Brothers, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-09-12 06:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16867738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko
Summary: Hanzo has little respect for his brother; Genji is rude, loud, slovenly, and lazy. He continues to refuse to take his rightful place among the ranks of the family. But when that family orders Hanzo to do the unthinkable, he is confronted by the fact that Genji might have had the right of it all along.To save his brother's life, Hanzo is willing to give up his own freedom, but Genji convinces him they can both be free instead. Fleeing their family means finding someone powerful enough to protect them. Overwatch seems a perfect candidate - or rather, Blackwatch - but they can't stroll up to the door and ask to be recruited.In the end, the brothers decided that penetrating one of Blackwatch's undercover operations and asking for help directly from the agent is a good way to prove their own abilities in the process. All Hanzo has to do is find this Jesse McCree person, get him alone, and plead their case.What can go wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's not significant or graphic enough for me to mention it in the tags for the story itself, but there is reference to human trafficking and child prostitution.

The waves crashing against the cliffside, far below the castle, created a steady ebb and flow of white noise. Hanzo sat in seiza, meditating, letting the sound wash through him to help him maintain a state of emptiness. 

Right now, emptiness seemed vitally important. Hanzo didn't _want_ to think. Sooner or later he was going to have to, but not yet.

Not yet.

For hours he'd sat here, waiting for Genji to return from a night spent partying at every dance and host club in Hanamura. The tiny part of Hanzo's mind that he couldn't quite shut off entirely prayed that it would be hours more before his brother returned. 

Better yet, maybe Genji wouldn't return at all. Maybe he would run off, the way he'd threatened to do many times through his moody teenage years. Maybe the problem would remove itself, and Hanzo would _never_ have to think about it.

But far too soon came the soft scrape of metal against wood, followed by a muted thump on the balcony. Genji's bodyguards swore up and down that they had no idea how their charge continued to escape them each night. It seemed Hanzo's theory was correct - Genji had been scaling the outer castle walls.

Well, really. What did the family expect, assigning regular Yakuza members to play bodyguard to the highly trained scion of a powerful ninja clan? Of _course_ Genji gave them the slip.

Smiling grimly, Hanzo opened his eyes to see his brother framed in the open door, climbing claws slung over his shoulder. Genji stopped short when he spotted Hanzo kneeling there, and his brows drew together in a scowl. "What the _hell_ , Hanzo? Get out of my room!"

No honourific on his name. Not that Hanzo had expected one. Genji hadn't bothered to show him any respect in a very long time. The feeling was quite mutual. "Genji. Sit down. We need to talk."

"It's four in the morning," Genji retorted, voice slurred. More likely due to drink than weariness, knowing his habits. "We need to _sleep_ , not talk. The lecture can wait for tomorrow. It's not like I haven't heard it a million times already."

"I am not here to lecture you." There was no point. As Genji said, the family had already tried scoldings and punishments to bring their wayward son into line, and nothing had worked. "You must _listen_ to me."

"Right. Sure." Genji made no attempt to muffle an enormous yawn. "I'll get right on that." He kicked off his shoes, shed his jacket and shirt, and dumped both on the floor in a messy heap. It matched several other piles of laundry, both dirty and clean, strewn around the tatami. He then collapsed face first onto his rumpled futon, still unmade from the night before.

The boy was a slob, and Hanzo had no idea how he could live in such conditions. Pure laziness. Then again, everyone assumed laziness was the reason Genji slacked off so badly in his martial arts practice - yet it seemed Genji was _far_ better at wall climbing than he'd let any of them believe. 

Even Hanzo would hesitate to make that climb with the wind as strong as it was tonight. Here was Genji, stumbling in reeking of alcohol, having apparently not broken a sweat. What else was Genji better at than any of them realized? What else was the boy hiding from the rest of them?

Was it possible the elders were right to be concerned about the threat Genji might represent to the family?

A chill ran down Hanzo's spine, and he shook the thought away. "Genji..."

"Go ahead, I'm listening," Genji muttered, the words indistinct against his pillow.

"You are not listening, you are falling asleep," Hanzo retorted. He reached out to grab his brother's shoulder, intending to shake the younger man awake and haul him upright.

To his surprise, Genji evaded the grab with a lithe motion, rolling up to kneel just out of reach. There was a kunai in his right hand, probably pulled from under the pillow, blade held back along the length of his forearm. 

Genji narrowed his eyes at Hanzo, and growled. "You're pushing your luck, Hanzo. Even father never invaded my personal space to lecture me. What gives you the right? Get. _Out_."

Every instinct screamed at Hanzo to draw a blade of his own, get ready to defend himself. Or better yet, take the offensive, teach Genji a lesson about respect that the brat wouldn't soon forget. On a different night, that _was_ probably how this would have ended - though to be fair, on a different night, Hanzo would indeed never have violated Genji's privacy so badly.

Gritting his teeth, Hanzo spread his hands on his knees instead, showing that he was unarmed and not reaching for a weapon. The lack of answering aggression surprised Genji, his head cocked like a startled bird's. That habitual motion was one of the reasons Genji had earned his nickname Sparrow. 

"Genji. _Please listen_." Hanzo used the most formal language he could for the plea, hoping against hope that the unusual amount of respect would reach his brother, make him understand how serious this was. 

It seemed to work. Slowly Genji lowered the blade, settling back on his heels in seiza to match Hanzo. He still looked suspicious, but also significantly less drunk than he had when stumbling in. When his spoke, the words were crisp, proving the slurring had been an act. "All right. I'm listening. This had better be good."

Taking a deep breath, Hanzo forced himself to gather the thoughts he'd been trying so avidly to avoid. "The elders called me before them tonight. To talk about you." 

Since Hanzo was not yet of age when their father died, the Shimada-gumi elders - his maternal grandfather and aunt, as well as his father's former second in command - had taken official control of the family. They seemed determined to make the most of their transitional power, and Hanzo was fairly certain they were attempting to condition him into obedience, so that he would keep listening to them after he turned twenty-one in a few months. 

Tonight, they'd put him in an impossible position. It was a trap, and Hanzo was scrambling to find a way out of it that wouldn't destroy him and Genji both.

Genji grimaced. "Great. What's it going to be? A week spent scrubbing the floors of the castle with a toothbrush? Busting me back down to grunt work instead of being a lieutenant? I appreciate the heads-up, but I don't _care_ , Hanzo. I don't give a shit what they think of me, or what you think of me, or what any of you say or do. I won't do it! I'm not the one who's dishonouring the family name, it's all the rest of you! Engaging in human trafficking for sex rings? Selling weapons to vicious street gangs? Pushing drugs on _gradeschoolers_? We're nothing but trash anymore!"

His voice rose through the rant, and Genji gestured angrily as he spoke. By the end he was all but vibrating with tension and energy, and Hanzo could tell he was inches from jumping to his feet and pacing. 

It was a familiar argument, ground they'd covered so many times before. Genji had been saying similar things since the boy was first old enough to understand what their family truly was, and that it wasn't all a grand sort of game. His rejection of everything the Shimada-gumi stood for had become more vicious and vehement over time.

Usually, this would be Hanzo's cue to jump in and start defending their family. Remind Genji that there was a centuries-long tradition behind the Shimada-gumi, that the particular endeavours Genji objected to were relatively minor parts of their family's business, that Genji was perfectly happy to _spend_ the 'blood money' he claimed to hate how his family earned.

Tonight, every possible argument Hanzo could make rang hollow in his own ears, so patently false that even he couldn't stomach the lies anymore. "You're right," he acknowledged, the words dragged out of him with painful reluctance that made his voice hoarse.

Genji growled. "Of course you'd say that, you're completely brainwashed by... wait, _what_?" Caught up in habit, it appeared to have taken him a moment to actually understand what Hanzo had said. 

Genji stared at him in wide-eyed shock, looking years younger. "Did... did you just say that I'm right? Hanzo, if I claimed the sky was blue on a clear day, you'd scold me for being too vague in my description. You _never_ admit that I'm right, let alone about this."

Were things truly that bad between them? Was Hanzo actually as unreasonable as Genji always accused him of being? Everything had been turned upside down, shaken around, and then set back on its side. Hanzo didn't know up from down anymore. 

"You _are_ right," he said again, so there could be no doubt. "You have always been right, and I knew it, but I thought we could still be more. I believed I could change things, return our clan to what it _should_ be. Especially if I could convince you to take your place by my side."

"Since when do you _want_ me by your side?" Genji asked, his tone bitter. "You've got a funny way of showing it. Here I thought you hated me, and that you believed I was full of shit and making excuses."

"I do think you make excuses," Hanzo replied, brow furrowing, unable to completely swallow his usual anger at this topic. "You have no appreciation for the freedom you enjoy, or the opportunities open to you."

"Freedom!" Genji laughed, an unpleasantly harsh sound. "Is that what you think? I'm not free, I'm a disappointment. I've always been a disappointment, and I always will be. Father made that clear many years ago. _Nothing_ I could do would ever be good enough to measure up to his expectations. You of all people ought to understand that - you actually _tried_ , and if anyone should have succeeded, it was you. I had no chance at all, so I finally stopped trying."

"Father expected a great deal of both of us," Hanzo agreed. "He was harsh because he wanted us to reach our full potential." Genji opened his mouth to argue, and Hanzo cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Enough. That's not the point. We've been over this ground a thousand times before, and it's not going to change."

"So, what _did_ change?" Genji demanded. "Why are you suddenly admitting that I'm right, and then continuing to argue that I'm wrong?"

"They are two separate arguments," Hanzo replied, his heart heavy. "You are right about the horrific state of the Shimada-gumi as a whole. Our family has fallen so far, we've lost all semblance of honour. There can be no redemption."

"Okaaaay..." Genji leaned forward, peering at him concern. "Exactly how much sake have you had tonight? You've always been melodramatic, but this is extreme even for you. What's going on, anija?"

How long had it been since Genji called him anija? The casual, affectionate form of ‘big brother’ struck Hanzo surprisingly hard. Or perhaps that was simply a side effect of his impossible task, making him hyper aware of every reason he shouldn't obey his orders. Clenching his fists, Hanzo lowered his gaze, unable to meet Genji's eyes. 

"The elders have decided that now that you're eighteen, you can no longer be permitted to run wild like a boy," Hanzo summarized the hour-long lecture he'd had from them earlier tonight. "Since you have flatly refused to take your place and swear your loyalty to the family, that makes you a security risk and a dangerous liability."

"What? If I'm not with you, I'm against you?" Genji snorted. "A security risk, really? What do they think I'm going to do, rat the family out to the police?"

"That is one possibility that was raised." Hanzo laughed, a hopeless sound. "Or that you might join a rival family and turn on us, or even that you might sell the secret of the dragons to outsiders."

"So what do they plan to do about it? Ground me for the rest of my life? Because we already know locking me in my room doesn't accomplish anything." Genji tipped his head toward the balcony door he'd entered through. His tone was light, joking as always, but for the first time there was a glimmer of real concern in his eyes that suggested Hanzo was finally getting through to the boy. 

"No, Genji." Swallowing hard to wet his parched throat, Hanzo fixed his gaze on his knees as he confessed the great sin. "They gave me an edict to end the threat, by _whatever means necessary_."

A long silence followed that pronouncement. Hanzo glanced up through his bangs, needing to see Genji's expression, to know that his brother was taking this seriously. 

Shock drained all the blood from Genji's face, leaving his skin with a sickly grey cast to it. His eyes were wide, lips parted, and he stared not so much at Hanzo as through him. "They... they ordered you to kill me?" His voice shook, and he sounded all of five years old again, running to Hanzo's room for shelter when the thunder frightened him.

"Yes." The elders had danced around it, refused to actually use the words, but everyone in that room had known exactly what they expected Hanzo to do. Oh, they wanted him to put a pretty face on it, maybe give Genji one last chance to swear fealty, but nobody doubted that Genji would refuse yet again. "They spent the better part of an hour making me angry with you first, listing every fault you've ever had, and every way in which you will be a problem for my rule of the family."

"I'm surprised it only took an hour to read the list." The joke was a reflexive reaction; Hanzo could tell Genji's mouth was on autopilot as he struggled to absorb the information. 

Genji shifted until he was sitting on his ass, so he could pull his legs around and curl his knees up to his chest, then huddle against them. It was an incredibly defensive posture, all but screaming how vulnerable Genji felt in that moment, and Hanzo doubted his brother realized what he was doing.

It made Hanzo want to reach out and comfort him, in a way he hadn't done since... he didn't even know how long. Once, many years ago, Hanzo and Genji had been close. Genji used to sneak into Hanzo's room and sleep on his futon, curled up on top of the blankets like a cat, when nightmares troubled him. Hanzo had spent more than one night shivering, because he would flip his covers over Genji so the little boy wouldn't suffer from the cold. 

When had that stopped? What had driven the wedge between them? There was no one moment Hanzo could point to, no epic fight that had torn them apart. It had been the slow, steady grind of their lives, as more and more of Hanzo's time was taken up learning to be kumicho from their father, while Genji rebelled harder and harder against the family's expectations.

If anyone had asked Hanzo that morning how he felt about his brother, Hanzo would likely have snarled something about how Genji was a lazy good-for-nothing slob, and that there was little love lost between them. Indeed, had the elders simply wound him up in anger and turned him loose, without going so far as to _tell_ Hanzo to end the threat, he might well have been waiting here to confront his brother, not warn him. 

And if that confrontation had turned to blades, and Hanzo was lost enough to his anger...

Feeling sick to his stomach, he reached out and caught Genji by the shoulders. The younger man didn't evade him this time, too distraught. "You _must_ submit to their will," Hanzo urged him. "You must swear your fealty. Say the word, and I will wake the whole castle so we can do it this moment."

A hundred emotions flitted through Genji's expression, all of them negative. "I can't!" he exclaimed, his voice low and broken. "I won't be what they want me to be. It will kill me, Hanzo, more thoroughly than your blade ever could. Death would be kinder."

Having expected that answer, Hanzo sighed. "Then you must flee. Leave the city, leave the _country_ , and never return."

"You think that idea has never occurred to me?" Genji retorted. "I've planned my escape a thousand times, but there is nowhere I could go that our family cannot reach eventually. I'd only be buying myself time, and I'd spend every minute of it looking over my shoulder in terror. They will never release me. Not when I carry the dragon."

"I will tell them that we fought," Hanzo said, through lips that felt numb. "That I defeated you, but you fell from the balcony in the battle, and your body was lost. It is the only way."

"That... could work," Genji admitted. A desperate sort of hope gleamed in his eyes. "I always assumed _you_ would be the one hunting me down, and I'd never escape you. But if you're covering for me... it could work."

Pulling free of Hanzo's grip, he leapt to his feet and darted around the room, yanking drawers and cupboards open in a flurry. Though his motions seemed random, the pile that grew on his futon was entirely purposeful. Cash, untraceable electronics, fake IDs, weapons, nondescript clothing, even makeup that would alter his appearance enough to escape facial recognition software in the short term. In less than one minute all told, Genji had gathered everything he would need to flee.

Because he really had planned this out, Hanzo realized, astonished. Individually, none of those items would raise suspicion when in the possession of someone raised in a Yakuza family. However, if Genji had kept them in one place, ready to go, and that cache was found it _would_ have set off alarm bells. So he'd carefully stashed the items away in separate places, knowing exactly where each was so he could grab them instantly if presented with an opportunity to leave.

It was far more planning and care than Hanzo had honestly believed his brother capable of. Thinking of the dangerous climb Genji had made tonight, Hanzo wondered again what else the younger man was hiding from the rest of the family.

"Why do you do it?" he asked, baffled. Genji cocked his head, confused. Hanzo stood so they were face to face. "Why do you pretend to be lazy and stupid?"

"Finally figured it out, huh?" Genji gave him a sardonic look. "If I seemed to be incompetent, the family didn't put as much pressure on me to take up my duties. Father mostly ignored me except to lecture me, which was exactly how I wanted it. I channeled all my energy and desire to excel into things like getting every high score in the video arcade, and it kept me from going crazy with boredom."

"You take after mother," Hanzo told him with a crooked smile. "I once overheard grandfather say she was too soft-hearted and weak-willed to be of any use to the family, and father had made a mistake marrying her. Father laughed, and said that she preferred it when people underestimated her, because it made it much easier for her to stab them in the back when they least expected it."

Genji chuckled, the sound startled and slightly wobbly, as if it covered a deeper emotion. "I didn't know that. I remember her as kind and gentle. Father was different, when she was alive. The whole clan was different. It was only after her death that we truly lost all semblance of honour." He bowed, startling Hanzo in turn by actually lowering his eyes. "Thank you, aniue. That means a lot to me."

The more formal version of ‘brother’ suggested Genji was sincere in his gratitude. Hanzo forgot sometimes how very young Genji had been when their mother died, how little his brother probably remembered of the woman who had been the heart of their family. Even Hanzo's memories were faded and dim. He could no longer remember exactly what she looked like, without a picture for reference. 

"Father changed after she died, and not for the better," he agreed, bowing his head in return. "Go, Genji. Run, and never look back. Be as free as the Sparrow you are."

Genji took three steps toward the balcony. Then he stopped, and looked back at Hanzo. "What about you? What will you do, now that you understand the depths our family has fallen to?"

"I will change things." Hanzo clenched his fists, determined. "I will clean house, and I will remake the Shimada-gumi into what we _should_ be. Yakuza, yes, and ninja. But not without honour."

"They won't let you," Genji warned him. "The dirtier the deal, the more money our family makes. The elders and lieutenants will fight you."

"Let them try." Hanzo shook his head. " _I_ am kumicho. It's not as if they can depose me. They will believe I am the last of our bloodline, and the Shimada-gumi cannot afford to lose the advantage the dragons give us."

"You are the last until you have children," Genji pointed out. "Which I know they're already pressuring you to do, and it will get _much_ worse when they believe I'm dead." His eyes were dark, and he crossed the distance between them again, reaching out to brace his hand on Hanzo's shoulder. "Worse, everyone will believe you are the kind of person who could kill his own brother in cold blood. That kind of reputation will stain you, Hanzo. Even among Yakuza."

"What choice do I have?" There was no escape for Hanzo. Genji could run, if Hanzo was covering for him, but the clan would _never_ let Hanzo go. "Go, brother. Make a better life for yourself. Perhaps find a way to let me know you're out there, every so often. At least I will have the comfort of knowing some part of our line lives on, in honour."

"Come with me." Genji's tone was low, insistent. "What will they do against _both_ of us? Who could they possibly send to punish us?"

"That will not stop them," Hanzo replied. "And while we are powerful, we are not invincible. A sniper bullet from a distance would kill us as surely as anyone else. They could use genetic samples from our bodies to recreate the dragons in a new generation."

"Then we find powerful allies. People such as Talon, or Overwatch - globe-spanning, influential groups that even our family would not dare to cross." There was a dangerous light in Genji's eyes. "Anyone like that would snap us up in a heartbeat, when they see what we are capable of. We would be assets worth protecting."

Was it possible? Could they both actually leave?

Hanzo felt dizzy at the mere thought. All his life he'd known that he was bound to his family by unbreakable ties of honour and blood. The course of his future had been written in stone before he'd even been conceived. He'd accepted the weight of that responsibility, willingly submitted himself to the greater needs of his clan, and did his best not to wish or wonder for anything else. 

Now Genji dangled the possibility before him, and it left Hanzo breathless with aching need. No, he did _not_ want to be known as a man who would commit fratricide, who led a clan so heartless it would kill its own scion for mere teenage rebellion. He did not want to be dragged down into the filth, to be stained with that mark. 

"Come with me, aniue," Genji said again. "We will be free."

Staring into his little brother's eyes, Hanzo saw the wildness that had always been there, now understood it to be an unstoppable force against the immovable object of their family's will. 

Lifting his hand, Hanzo clasped his brother's shoulder in turn. "Yes. We will be free."


	2. Chapter 2

It didn't take long for them to conclude that Talon was not an option. Though the organization was deliberately low-key and shadowy, there was information about them floating around, if you knew where to look.

Genji, apparently, knew where to look. He spent hours cross-legged on one of the twin beds in the hotel room they'd rented using his untraceable credit cards, typing away on a laptop at a speed that astonished Hanzo. He'd had no idea his little brother was any kind of computer expert, let alone a decent hacker. Perhaps not _all_ of his time on the computer had been spent playing video games.

"I think the one good decision father ever made was to turn down an alliance with Talon," Genji finally declared in disgust. "These people make the Shimada-gumi look as shining and noble as samurai."

"We would be better off returning home, trying to change our family for the better," Hanzo agreed. “At least then, we would have some influence over the clan’s goals.To Talon, we would be nothing more than weapons to be wielded.”

He stood beside the window, peering out over the seedy underbelly of Hong Kong. The neighbourhood was dirty and run down, not at all like beautifully maintained Hanamura. It was strange for him to be here. The Shimada-gumi were powerful enough that those seeking alliances came to _them_ , and Hanzo had rarely left his hometown.

"That probably leaves Overwatch as our best bet," Genji concluded. "The question is, how do we get their attention without either shooting ourselves in the foot, or alerting our family where we are?"

"From what I understand, you don't sign up for Overwatch, they recruit you," Hanzo said. "And it requires an exemplary service record in some form of military." He wasn’t certain how well he and Genji, used to living at the top of a criminal organization, would fit in with a military.

"Yeah, that's the official party line." Genji chuckled. "The fact is, it's not Overwatch we need to join. It's Blackwatch. Their top-secret, hush-hush, doesn't-exist black ops division."

Now that sounded far more like something where Hanzo and Genji could find a place to belong. "Are you certain it _does_ exist?"

"Oh, it exists. But we can't exactly walk up to the front door and demand to be recruited." Genji drummed his fingers on the keys, brow furrowed as he thought.

"We need to make contact with one of their agents," Hanzo suggested. "If we can uncover an operation that they're running, that should impress them enough to gain their interest."

"Mmm." Genji considered that, then nodded. "All right. I'll see what I can dig up. We probably want to head for Europe, or America; that's where the majority of their bases are, and where they do most of their work."

"I will arrange transportation," Hanzo declared. "You keep looking, see if you can find a good target for us to engage."

"Yessir." Genji gave him a flippant salute. Ordinarily, the sass would have exasperated Hanzo, possibly angered him for the lack of respect, and the implied failure to take his assignment seriously.

Over the last few days, Hanzo had come to realize that Genji's laid-back nature was in fact only skin deep. The younger man had a fierce ability to focus and a strong will to succeed. It was just that he only engaged those traits when he cared about what he was doing. Staying alive and free of their family definitely caught his interest, and so Genji had been working tirelessly and without complaint. But still with his trademark lack of respect. 

Hanzo was surprised to discover that he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Allowing Genji the freedom to be himself was the whole point of this escapade.

And allowing Hanzo to do the same. The problem was, without his role as kumicho-to-be to define his existence, Hanzo was coming to realize he didn’t _know_ what he might want.

* * *

It took two days for them to travel from Hong Kong to Europe, using cheap, untraceable methods where their fake ID wouldn’t be examined too closely, and frequently backtracking or zig-zagging to confuse any eventual hunters. 

Genji spent the whole time working furiously. By the time he had something concrete, he was staggering with exhaustion, eyes half closed and yawning with every other sentence as he made his report to Hanzo in their latest run-down hotel room. 

"There’s an agent undercover as a bartender at a sex club, apparently investigating rumours of human trafficking. The mission is wrapping up; he just sent his last report to his handler, but they couldn't arrange extraction until tomorrow. He's in Monte Carlo for one more night, and we can be there in less than an hour from here."

"It sounds ideal," Hanzo agreed. "With his mission concluded, his handler likely won't be monitoring him closely, and our attempt to make contact won't present a potentially dangerous distraction from his job. Are we going to try to engage him at the extraction point?"

"No, I wasn't able to find out where that is." Genji made a frustrated noise, and dragged a hand through his hair, leaving the bright green spikes in disarray. "It must have been established in the initial briefing for the mission; all I can get my hands on is this last report, because I caught it and decrypted it in transmission. Anything archived on their system will be much harder to get access to. But they ordered him to stay at his cover job for the night, rather than potentially raise suspicion by quitting without notice. We can make contact there."

"At a... sex club." Hanzo grimaced in distaste. "At least he is a bartender, not a prostitute."

"Actually, that makes it harder," Genji pointed out around another yawn. "If you could just hire him and go to a private room, having a conversation would be easy. As a bartender he's probably going to be highly resistant to going anywhere with you, let alone somewhere private. You may have to corner him after his shift is over, but he'll likely be wary and defensive."

" _I_ will?" Hanzo stared at him. "You want _me_ to go into a sex club and try to... to... pick up a bartender?"

The idea was laughable. _Genji_ was the charming, social one. He was the one who could fit into such a place without arousing suspicion, strike up a conversation with a reticent target, and manipulate them into doing what he wanted.

But Genji was also dead on his feet, barely staying awake after days of intense research and travel. The younger man grimaced and rubbed at his face briskly, as if trying to wake himself up. "I don't think I can do it," he admitted. "I'll fall asleep on the bar, even if I nap the whole way there. And we can't wait, he'll be gone after tonight."

Panic welled up, though Hanzo tried fiercely to suppress it. He could do this. He _could_. He was an experienced ninja and Yakuza, trained to be the head of his powerful family. There was no mission he couldn't handle. It needed to be done, so Hanzo would do it.

Genji looked at Hanzo's expression, and sighed. "Never mind. I'll sleep as much as I can once we get there, and then try to catch him at the end of his shift. You’ll need to fetch me coffee. _Lots_ of it."

Steel rammed itself down Hanzo's spine, and his determination solidified. "You will not," he said, as firmly as he could. "Even if you rest, you will be exhausted enough that you could make dire mistakes. The man may not react well to having us penetrate his cover."

"I can protect myself," Genji muttered, but his shoulders slumped with what Hanzo strongly suspected was relief. 

"Could you even summon your dragon now, if you needed to?" Hanzo demanded. Genji's wince was answer enough. His little brother's focus was shot, exhaustion too strong to allow him to find the concentration required to use their greatest weapon. "You will rest until we get there, then help me to prepare, and stay on the comms to assist me."

This time Genji's sigh was _definitely_ one of relief. "That, I can manage. And just think, anija. The worst that can happen is that you'll piss off the agent so badly, Overwatch will be hunting for us as well as our family." With a grin on that 'reassuring' thought, he shut his laptop and flopped over onto the pillows. "Wake me when you've made the travel arrangements and we're ready to go."

Hanzo wondered if Genji feigned falling asleep on the next breath, before Hanzo could say anything in response, but he suspected it was real. He waited a few moments, just to be sure, then ghosted forward and stood next to the bed.

Genji looked so young and vulnerable, like this. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was pale and fragile. One lock of hair escaped the gel to fall over his face, hanging into his eyes, black dye now covering the previous green so he wouldn’t be as noticeable. Reaching out, Hanzo brushed it back. Genji was so tired, he didn't even twitch at the touch.

Any doubt Hanzo felt vanished. He'd made the right choice, to defy their family. Genji was his blood, his baby brother. When his parents let him see the tiny, wrinkled infant for the first time, Hanzo had stood beside his mother, stroked the boy’s startlingly thick hair much as he was doing now, and solemnly vowed to protect and take care of his new brother. 

Whatever Genji had or hadn't done in the years since then, certainly none of it was anywhere near bad enough to justify a kill order from their family. And had Hanzo remained part of the Shimada-gumi, he would have been sucked into that corruption and dishonour eventually.

He might have saved Genji's life by warning him about what the elders wanted, but Genji had saved Hanzo's just as surely by refusing to leave him behind.

* * *

Genji was able to get enough rest on the trip to be somewhat more awake and aware by the time they settled into an equally seedy hotel room at the edges of Monte Carlo. He was still yawning as he fished out their stolen Shimada electronics and started calibrating their comms, but at least his eyes were open. "I'll stay with you and talk you through it as best I can," he said, giving Hanzo a smile that was probably meant to be reassuring.

Hanzo did not feel reassured. In fact, the only thing he truly felt was a sort of quiet, creeping panic. He _was_ going to screw this up, he was sure of it. Dealing with people was not his strong suit.

Even trying to figure out what to wear left him floundering. This mission was so far outside Hanzo's comfort zone, he literally didn't know where to start. It didn't help that his choices were severely limited, since he'd had little time to pack and had taken only the essentials. Hanzo couldn't decide whether he should go traditional Japanese and hope that would catch their target's interest, or stick to Western and try not to draw too much attention.

He finally decided on Western. If their family was tracking them, they didn't want to stand out and make it easy for the Shimada-gumi to target them. Hanzo had worn suits many times before, and though he found them rather constricting, he was comfortable enough in them.

Except this time, he couldn't seem to get his tie knotted properly to save his life. He refused to admit that it might be due to the way his hands were shaking. 

Glancing up, Genji watched him for a moment, then set his laptop aside and stood. "Let me," the younger man said, and brushed Hanzo's hands away to take over.

"I didn't think you even knew how to do this," Hanzo commented as Genji's hands flew through the motions, creating a perfect Windsor knot. 

"There's a lot of things I am good at that you don't know, anija." Genji gave him a crooked smile, and nudged him toward the bed. "Sit, I'll do your hair."

"What is wrong with my hair?" Hanzo scowled at his reflection. He'd cut it when their father died, a sign of mourning, but also an excuse to be rid of the sometimes annoying burden of it. It was nowhere near as short as Genji's, but the lack of weight against the back of his neck still surprised him sometimes.

"Sit," Genji repeated with more emphasis, avoiding the question. He dug a bottle out of his bag and squeezed a handful of clear goop into his palm, then rubbed his hands together to spread it over his fingers.

"You consider _hair gel_ to be essential enough to include in your emergency getaway supplies?" Hanzo asked, incredulous. He cringed away from Genji's reaching hands. "You are not putting that gunk in my hair."

With an exaggerated sigh, Genji rolled his eyes. "Am I the expert in this area, or are you? Will you lessen your chances because you're too proud to let your useless little brother style your hair?"

Grinding his teeth, Hanzo considered that. Genji _was_ the expert as far as clubs and picking people up went, that couldn't be denied. Reluctantly, Hanzo nodded. "Very well. But if you make me look ridiculous, I will have my revenge eventually."

"You'll look fantastic." Genji ran his hands through Hanzo's hair, coating the strands in the slick gel, then started tugging locks this way and that. "Listen, don't worry too much about trying to create a cover character, or blend in, or whatever. Just be yourself."

"If I was being myself, I would never set foot in such a place," Hanzo retorted.

Genji chuckled. "I didn't say follow your personal preferences. I said be yourself. The wealthy, powerful, dangerous heir to a shadowy criminal organization, incredibly picky about who and what you deem worthy of your time. You'll fit right in."

That didn't sound so bad. Hanzo could certainly manage to be aloof and mysterious.

"Be reserved, and a bit disdainful of the 'wares' on offer," Genji continued. "That will explain why you're not simply choosing a whore and taking them up to a room, but hanging out at the bar instead. Actually, you could claim you're there because you're supposed to be meeting me and I picked the place. Gives you an excuse to be chatting up the bartender to pass the time."

The more Genji outlined the plan, the more Hanzo relaxed. This all sounded very doable. There was still the question of actually getting the target to give him the time of day, but at least it appeared Hanzo wasn't going to stick out nearly as much as he'd feared.

"There," Genji declared, stepping back and wiping his hands off with a towel. He gave Hanzo a critical once over. “Not bad, anija. If you weren’t my brother, I’d be trying to get into your pants, so that’s a good sign.”

Ignoring the teasing with the ease of long practice, Hanzo stared at himself in the mirror. Genji had spiked his hair up and back, almost to a point. One long lock at the front swooped up before falling across the side of his face, all but begging for the viewer to smooth it back out of Hanzo's eyes. It wasn't an unattractive style, per se, but... 

"I look like an anime character," he complained.

"Yeah, gaijin eat that shit up," Genji laughed. "Like they think it's what Japanese are supposed to look like, or something. Trust me, it will draw the right kind of attention."

Once again, Hanzo was forced to concede that Genji was the one who knew what he was talking about. At least he didn't look completely outrageous. "My jacket," he said, pushing off the bed and looking around.

"Leave it off," Genji suggested. "The vest looks sharp and stylish, but the jacket would turn it formal. The shirtsleeves give it a more approachable look. In fact..." He caught Hanzo's hand in his, and rolled up the sleeve to his forearm, before doing the same to the second sleeve.

Hanzo had to admit he did look good. The vest's blue sides were bright against the grey-on-grey pinstripe of the rest of the vest and trousers, and matched the blue of his tattoo peeking from beneath the rolled cuff. The whole package could be described as 'dignified casual', which rather suited him.

Maybe he really could do this. 

"Thank you for your assistance," he said, bowing his head briefly to his brother. Genji grinned, and passed him the tiny earpiece that would keep them connected. Hanzo slipped the flesh-coloured button into his left ear. It was barely noticeable, and looked like a hearing aid if anyone did spot it, so it should pass without comment.

"Comm check," Genji said, and Hanzo heard the echo a split second later through the earpiece.

"Check," he repeated, and Genji nodded to indicate he'd heard Hanzo as well. Hanzo put in the special contact lenses that would transmit everything he saw, and a moment later Genji again nodded confirmation that the feed was working.

"You're gonna knock him dead," Genji said, and slapped Hanzo on the back. "You can do this, and I’ll be right there with you the whole time. Now get out there, and show Overwatch what a Shimada is capable of."


	3. Chapter 3

The club had no sign, no indication that the place was anything more than the rundown warehouse it appeared to be. Several of the Shimada-gumi enterprises were housed in similar buildings, so Hanzo wasn’t surprised. If you didn’t know the place was there, you weren’t the sort of person they wanted attending.

In a way, he was grateful. The familiarity of the clandestine operation allowed him to settle into the correct mindset. Hanzo told himself that he was here to check out a competing Yakuza establishment, and strode up to the door as if he had every right to be there.

A crisp banknote of high denomination got him past the bouncer with no trouble, and Hanzo stepped out of the grungy industrial district - and into another world.

Opulence spread out before him. Marble tiles lined the floor, and the tables looked like they might be made of teak. Heavy silk curtains hung around booths upholstered in rich velvet, capable of being closed completely for the illusion of privacy.

Few people were bothering with that illusion. Everywhere Hanzo looked there were men and women in various states of undress, many of them engaged in sexual acts. Lap dances, handjobs and blowjobs, and at least one person openly fucking their partner on the table.

Hanzo’s lip curled in distaste. The Shimada-gumi had comparable operations, but he’d never been to any in person. Though he knew the rank and file sniggered about whether or not Hanzo was still a virgin, he had no interest in paid companionship of any kind, let alone of this sort.

“Someone is making a great deal of money from this venture,” he murmured, quiet enough to be nearly subvocal. The transmitter would pick up the vibrations through his jaw to his skull, and send the sounds back to Genji as clearly as if Hanzo had been speaking normally.

“Ironically, this is a Talon operation,” Genji replied. “And yes, they are raking in the cash from it, at least according to the agent’s report.”

“Human trafficking?” Hanzo recalled Genji mentioning something about that earlier. He glanced around, wondering if any of the whores he could see were here of their own free will.

“Including _children_ ,” Genji hissed, full of venom. “There’s a basement that’s practically a second club, members only, and nearly impossible to get an invitation to. The Blackwatch agent had to work here a month before he was assigned down there and able to confirm the rumours.”

Hanzo barely suppressed a snarl of his own. Peddling children for sex… even the Shimada-gumi had not sunk nearly so low.

At least, he didn’t think so. The order to kill his own brother was making Hanzo question everything he thought he knew about how far his family - and Family - were willing to go. Most of the day-to-day operations fell to the lieutenants, not the kumicho directly. There might have been things that Hanzo wasn’t directly aware of.

He felt sick to his stomach at the thought. “Genji? Did we…” He couldn’t even finish the question.

“Absolutely not.” Genji was firm in his denial, and since he’d never held back in criticizing the Shimada-gumi in any way, Hanzo believed him. “Not anything to this extent. Some teenagers, probably, but not actual children. I’d bet this kind of thing is one of the reasons father turned Talon down.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Hanzo made his way through the club, seeking the bar. It was on the far side of the building, as if the owners wanted customers to have to pass by every possible whore who might draw their interest - and their money.

The bar was extensive, covering the side of the room. Granted it was the narrower end of the rectangular space, but that was still a lot of square meters. With dismay, Hanzo realized there were at least four people working behind the bar.

“Damn. Do we know what the agent looks like?” Hanzo gave the bartenders a slower look, knowing Genji would be watching the camera feed from his contact lens.

“No.” Genji sounded equally frustrated. “I’m not even a hundred percent certain it’s a man. Jesse can be a girl's name, I believe. But they’d be crazy to send a female agent undercover in _this_ cesspool.”

That was certainly true. Any moderately attractive woman here would be exploited immediately, whether she consented or not. Or a sufficiently attractive man, for that matter; there were fewer male prostitutes working the floor, but a significant number. And Hanzo noted that while none of the bartenders were _un_ attractive, they didn't have the same kind of beauty as the whores.

"Look for someone who stands out, or has a foreign accent," Genji suggested. "If we're lucky, he'll be the only non-local working the bar.”

Since Hanzo didn’t speak the local language, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to tell an accent from the normal sounds. Many of the conversations around him were happening in English, but the accents ran the gamut.

He scanned the bar once again, and this time his gaze caught on a man who’d just emerged from a door marked ‘employees only’. The brunet was tall and lanky, but with enough muscle to impress. He wore jeans, a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, a scarf - no, a bandanna - tied around his neck… and of all things, a cowboy hat.

Well, that certainly stood out, and looked foreign. Hanzo was going to have to start somewhere, so he might as well try his luck with that one. Attempting to project 'aloof and disdainful' - and hide how disgusted he was to even set foot in this den of iniquity - Hanzo made his way to the cowboy's end of the bar, and caught the man's attention. "Excuse me," he said in English.

The man turned a smile on him that held enough wattage to light up a room. His hair was too long to be short but too short to be long, curling around his ears, and he had a well-groomed beard that suited his cowboy image. His skin was darker than most of the Caucasians around them, though whether it was natural skin tone or a tan, Hanzo couldn't tell. His eyes were a light brown color that would have looked like warm honey, if not for the fact that his smile didn't come close to reaching them. 

"What can I do you for, darlin'?" His English had a distinct American Southwest accent to it, a husky drawl like he was caressing the words and didn't want to let go. Hanzo wondered if he was playing up the cowboy angle, or if it really was how the man spoke.

"Sake, please." Hanzo dropped another large banknote on the bar, more than enough to cover a night's tab even if he drank for an hour straight. "Let me know if that runs out - but if not, and if I am pleased by your attentiveness, what remains will be your tip."

"Nice," Genji murmured in his ear. "You've guaranteed he'll keep a good chunk of his attention on you for as long as you care to hold it. Good thinking, anija."

The bartender wiped a rag over the already spotless counter in front of Hanzo, and the money discreetly disappeared. That bright smile crept up another notch, and the man added a saucy wink to go with it. "Your wish is my command. Sake, hmm? Now there's somethin' we don't get much call for. Not so long ago I wouldn't have had a clue what that even was."

He headed toward the other end of the bar, not seeming to hurry but his long strides eating up the distance. He moved in the lazy prowl of a hunting cat - and not a housecat. There was a distinctly dangerous air to him. 

The denim of his jeans clung to the curves of his ass, all but painted on. Hanzo would have considered the pants rather immodest, except they were prudish in comparison to what most others in this place were wearing. Or not wearing, as the case might be.

As soon as Hanzo realized he was in fact staring at the man's ass, he averted his eyes with a blush. Thankfully Genji wouldn't be able to tell exactly what had caught Hanzo's attention, and would probably assume Hanzo had simply been sizing him up. It _was_ a very fine ass, quite muscular and taut, but that was not the sort of detail Hanzo needed to be noticing. Now, or ever. And certainly not in a place like this.

In moments the man was back, a large bottle of sake in hand. Hanzo was pleased to recognize the label as an excellent brand he'd often enjoyed back home. Top shelf - and top dollar. That banknote might last less time than he'd thought. "Is it warmed?" Hanzo asked, trying to cover any lingering embarrassment at his moment of unprofessionalism.

"Nope, chilled," the bartender replied. "But I can warm it up if you'd like? The last fella what asked for it wanted it dead cold."

"That will do." Hanzo preferred his warm, but he didn't want the man wandering off to heat it. Hanzo was supposed to be talking to him to make sure this was indeed his target, not drinking for pleasure. Besides, drinking it warm would only add to the heat in his cheeks. He was trying for 'cool and composed', not 'flushed and flustered'.

"Y'know, at first I thought this was a teacup saucer or some such," the bartender commented as he poured the drink into a traditional shallow cup. "Not sure how anybody gets drunk on such an itty-bitty sip, but I guess it's pretty powerful. Ain't seen you around these parts before."

Grateful to be handed a conversational opening, Hanzo jumped on it. "That's because I have never been here before. And, excellent sake aside..." He downed the cup like the old hand he was. ‘Age of majority’ meant little when your family owned the entire town. "I do not know that I shall return. My brother demanded that I meet him here, but I see no sign of him yet, so I will pass the time as best I can."

"Could be in one of the private rooms upstairs," the bartender said, pouring another cup. "If so, he'll be down sooner or later, I s'pose. You could always have a little fun of your own while you wait. Any of the gals or fellas would be happy to serve you." 

There was an odd little twist in his voice when he said 'happy to serve you'. Hanzo would never have noticed it if he weren't paying close attention. Was it a giveaway that this was the Blackwatch agent, unable to completely hide his distaste for what was being done to the prostitutes here? Or just the sneer of a man who thought himself better than a whore?

"I have no interest in the favours of loose men and women." Hanzo shrugged, and picked up the cup, but only toyed with it this time. It wouldn't do for him to _actually_ get drunk. "Particularly when several seem unhappy to be here. This is not an establishment I would frequent by choice."

Was it his imagination, or did the man's eyes finally warm somewhat? His smile was as bright as ever. "Well, for the record, and so there ain't no upset feelings later, us bartenders ain't on the menu. So if you're chattin' me up in hopes of gettin' someone less... used... you're in for a disappointment."

There was absolutely no way for Hanzo to hide his flush this time, especially not with Genji's soft chuckle in his ear. Though Hanzo knew he probably _should_ be flirting, to try to get the man alone - assuming this was actually their target at all - it was a relief to be told there was no point. It was not a skill he possessed.

Certainly that was _not_ a curl of disappointment twisting inside him along with the relief. 

"That is not my purpose here," Hanzo said, stiff with embarrassment. "I am awaiting my brother in a place that is distasteful to me, and hoped for some marginally more pleasant company to pass the time. If that is unwelcome, you need merely say so, and I will allow you to return to your job in peace."

"Now, now, darlin', don't get your panties in a knot." The bartender made a sort of hushing motion with his hands, as if trying to calm an upset horse. "You're welcome to hold up the bar here as long as you care to, and I don't mind shootin' the breeze. I was trying to make sure you wouldn't be disappointed, not get your dander up."

With a little 'harrumph' of annoyance, Hanzo allowed himself to settle. "My name is Hanzo, not 'darling'," he said, but accepted the third cup of sake the man poured as an apology.

There was that thousand-watt smile again. It felt more real this time. "Pleased to meetcha, Hanzo, but you're still gonna get called darlin. I'm William Kidd, but most folks call me Bill."

For a moment Hanzo was frustrated, thinking this wasn't their target after all. Then Genji hooted with laughter. "Billy the Kid? Seriously? Wow, he's really playing this cowboy angle. Call him on it, maybe he'll respect you for it - and give you his real name."

Hanzo wasn't sure exactly what he was supposed to say, but he gave it his best shot. Arching an eyebrow, he repeated Genji's reaction with disdain accompanying the amusement. "Billy the Kid? Don't you think that's taking it a bit far?"

'Bill' laughed, a warm, rough chuckle that rumbled in his chest like a deep purr. This time his smile was absolutely genuine, and though it wasn't as wide as before, it was much brighter in its own way. "Don't get many folks out this way who know that old story." His drawl was less syrupy, making it clear that the way he'd spoken before was an affectation. "Name's Jesse, but don't spread it around, all right? I wanna discourage customers that might decide it'd be cheaper to follow me home and try their luck when I don't got a bouncer to remind 'em I ain't for sale."

Relieved that he had indeed found the right man, Hanzo nodded. "Is that a frequent problem?"

"More than you might think." Jesse leaned one elbow on the bar, bringing them closer together. "Ain't my favourite part of the job, that's for certain. Thankfully, I'm pretty good at being discouraging all by my lonesome."

"I'm sure," Hanzo murmured, eyeing the man's corded forearms and the ripple of muscle visible beneath his shirt. Not to mention beneath those painted on jeans. "You seem the sort of person who can handle himself in a fight." Hanzo was certain he would emerge the winner if it came to a physical struggle between them, but Jesse had the sort of dangerous physicality that would be right at home in a criminal organization.

Or a paramilitary organization like Overwatch. 

He didn't realize his critical assessment could be interpreted as a lustful gaze, until Jesse gave him a slow-once over in return. There was heat in his eyes finally melting the ice, and it scorched the breath right out of Hanzo. "Ain't lookin' half bad yourself there, darlin'. Bet you're one of them martial arts masters, hmm?"

Flustered, Hanzo struggled for words. People flirted with him all the time; he was - had been - the heir to an incredibly powerful and wealthy Yakuza family. Some of those people had even been sincere in their interest of him, rather than his connections. Never before had that flirting actually left an impact on Hanzo, and he wasn't certain how to handle it. Especially in this entirely inappropriate situation.

It didn't help to have Genji crowing in his ear. "Yesss! Score. Apparently you're his type, now that he knows you're not the usual clientele. Getting him alone just became a whole lot easier. Keep doing what you're doing, anija. Don't reject the interest, but also don't seem _too_ eager or you'll scare him off."

Easier said than done. Lifting his cup to his lips, Hanzo bought himself time to think. Except he wasn't doing much thinking, his mind spinning in confused little circles. Finally he decided to go with what was simplest - the truth. He was flustered, floundering, and flattered at all once. "I thought we weren't supposed to flirt."

Jesse winked at him. "Said there was no point in you chattin' me up thinking I could be bought. Didn't say there was no point in flirtin'. Ain't you just the cutest thing... don't think I've seen that much blushing the whole time I've had this job, put together."

"Ah." Once again Hanzo didn't know what to say to that. He cleared his throat. "I have never in my life been described as 'cute'."

"Then they ain't talkin' to you the right way," Jesse teased him, smiling his real smile again. "Not even as a kid, though?"

Hanzo gave him a wry smile. "I was known as the 'serious' brother for a reason. Genji was the 'charming' one. He is... easier with people than I am."

"That's an understatement," Genji muttered. Hanzo ignored him with the ease of long practice.

Jesse tilted his head, looking oddly concerned. " 'Was'? You said you're meeting him here, though, didn't you? Or did you have another brother?"

Realizing how his words had sounded, Hanzo shook his head. "No, no. We are both alive, and the only children of our parents. We recently had a... falling out, with our family, so nobody is calling us much of anything right now. That is why we're in Europe, hoping to find a place to belong." Perhaps that could serve as an eventual lead-in to his real purpose for speaking to Jesse.

"Sorry to hear that," Jesse replied. "Never had much in the way of family myself, so I can only imagine how that's gotta sting. At least you've got each other."

"Yes," Hanzo agreed, voice going soft with pain. "At least we have that. I’m not sure what I would do without him."

"Aw, anijaaaa," Genji drawled, affecting a cutsey tone. "You're gonna have me crying over here if you keep up all that sap. I love you, too." Though it was said in a teasing fashion, it was the first time Genji had expressed such a sentiment to Hanzo in... years. A decade or more. Despite his best efforts not to react, Hanzo couldn't keep a small smile off his lips.

Jesse seemed to attribute it to the subject matter, at least. He smiled back. "Well, I do know a bit about searchin' for a place to belong, so I wish you the best with that. Somethin' tells me you ain't gonna be findin' any belonging in _this_ joint. Though I guess your brother's more the type to enjoy himself in a place like this?"

"Ah, no, this is not my sort of establishment," Hanzo agreed, grimacing in distaste at the thought. "Truthfully, I believe Genji must be playing a prank on me, because I cannot imagine him frequenting such a place, either." 

Glancing around, he wrinkled his nose at the sight of someone receiving a blowjob only three stools down, and hastily returned his attention to Jesse. "Not to say that he disdains paid companionship as I do, but I believe he would prefer his partners to be doing such work of their own free will, and benefiting from it. What brings _you_ to employment in such a place?"

"Desperate for the money," Jesse 'admitted', and his 'shamed' look was so convincing, Hanzo would have believed him if he didn't know the man was an undercover agent. "Tell you what, though, it ain't close to worth it. This place..." he curled his lip in a sneer. "Ain't my style, that's for sure."

"That explains why you've been ignoring the increasingly angry looks from the other bartenders for slacking off," Hanzo replied with a small smile. "Were I still head of my family, I might even offer you employment. Alas, I am not in a position to be hiring anyone at the moment." 

"Well, thanks for thinkin' of me." Jesse's expression brightened again. "Y'know what? Let's blow this popsicle stand. I was half plannin' on quittin' end of the night, anyhow. Maybe we can go somewhere a bit more private for a drink or two, hmm?" 

He slid his hand across the bar, and his fingertips brushed over the back of Hanzo's hand. His fingers were callused, in a fashion Hanzo recognized as being due to frequent gun use. While the analytical part of his brain made note of that, the rest of his mind was spinning dizzily. It was such a light touch, surely innocent. Yet it sent a spark of wild heat flaring through Hanzo's nerves. More, Jesse was leaning close enough now for Hanzo to pick up his scent, and it was a rich concoction of fragrant tobacco smoke, spicy aftershave, and the faintest hint of gunpowder.

Without meaning to, Hanzo inhaled deeply to catch more of that enticing scent. Something of his fascination must have shown in his expression; Jesse's eyes darkened as the pupils dilated, and there suddenly didn't seem to be nearly enough air between them. Jesse stroked his fingers over Hanzo's hand again, firmer this time, then caught it in his and turned it over to trace his fingertips over the palm, instead.

Hanzo shivered, which was ridiculous because he was now thoroughly overheated. "Are... are you propositioning me?" His voice came out breathless, and even to his own ears it sounded like the farthest thing from a protest.

Genji's voice nearly made him jump. "Seriously, Hanzo? You're not _sure_ if he's inviting you for sex?" The exasperated tone was no doubt accompanied by an eyeroll.

Hanzo flushed harder, and wished he could say something in retort. Of course he recognized a come on when it was made, but... he wasn't used to _wanting_ to respond, and it made him need to check to be certain he wasn't misunderstanding.

Not that it mattered, if he was. Damn it, this was not about him getting laid, it was about securing a future for him and Genji. Hanzo must not lose sight of that.

"You really are the cutest damn thing," Jesse chuckled. "Yes, darlin', I'm propositioning you. What can I say? You're the hottest thing to walk in here all week, _and_ you don't actually wanna be here at all. You blush like a virgin and you're sweet as hell, and I just wanna lick you all over. One night's all I got to offer, but it'll be a night to remember. Whaddya say?"

Hanzo knew the answer he _should_ give. Of course he should say 'yes', then take the first opportunity to explain his true purpose in approaching Jesse. It would undoubtedly immediately cool any ardor the man might feel toward him, leaving them in a fit state to discuss business. All would be as it should be.

The problem was that he found himself desperately _wanting_ to say 'yes'. For the first time in his life, Hanzo was deeply, genuinely interested in someone in a sexual way. He was rock hard with anticipation and need, the fly of his trousers pressing painfully against his erect cock, making him grateful the bar hid his lap from view. Not that anyone would pay attention, not when half the people around him had theirs bare for public display.

"Yes," he replied, and tried to convince himself that he was doing what he should, not what he wanted.


	4. Chapter 4

As they left the crowded club and turned into a deserted alley, Hanzo was still trying to convince himself to open his mouth and admit the truth, thus ending any chance of Jesse being interested in more from him. It would be so simple. All he needed to do was say five words. ‘I know you're in Blackwatch.’

His voice seemed to be frozen, his throat blocked by a lump of mingled fear and regret and desire, each emotion competing fiercely with the others for dominance. The result was a confusing swirl within Hanzo, his chest tight with conflicting needs.

As it turned out, it didn't matter, because the moment they were out of sight of anyone Jesse had Hanzo pushed back against the brick wall, his tall, muscled body pinning Hanzo in place as he leaned in and fastened their mouths together. The kiss was hot and wet right from the start, Hanzo's lips parting without any instruction from him to allow entrance to Jesse's tongue.

He didn't even try to fight the invasion, surrendering utterly as Jesse dominated the kiss. This was unlike _anything_ Hanzo had ever experienced before; Jesse was intense, focused, and determined, but he was also doing his level best to pleasure _Hanzo_ , not himself. His tongue swept over Hanzo's lips, then plunged deep to search for sensitive spots, licking and lingering anywhere that made Hanzo moan.

And there were quite a few such places. Before Hanzo knew what was happening, he'd fisted his hands in Jesse's shirt and was pulling the bigger man closer, tongues tangling in a duel as Hanzo kissed back.

Jesse's hands fell to Hanzo's hips, then slipped up beneath his vest. Even through the fabric of his shirt, Hanzo registered the heated imprint of palms and fingers against his body, the roughness of callus catching on the fine silk and making him shiver at the thought of what it would feel like against his skin. If he'd thought he was rock hard before, it was nothing compared to the iron bar in his pants now.

An equally hard cock pressed insistently against his as Jesse rocked their hips together. Both of them groaned in response, and Jesse slipped his hands down to curve over Hanzo's ass, over the trousers.

At last they were forced to pull back for air, both of them panting hard. "Goddamn, darlin," Jesse murmured, his voice as rough as his hands. "I knew from that pretty blush you'd be fun to kiss, but you are somethin' else. So damn responsive. You ever done this before?"

"I..." Once again, the words tangled up in Hanzo's throat and refused to emerge. This time the cause was embarrassment. He'd never cared before that he was a virgin, seeing no virtue in spending his first time with whatever willing man or woman caught his passing fancy. The idea of engaging in a one night stand had been repulsive to him.

It was no longer repulsive. It felt like the most necessary thing in the world. If one night was all he could have of Jesse's drugging touch, then Hanzo would take it and treasure the memories. 

Except that he couldn't. He wasn't here for pleasure, and this was neither the time nor the place. "Jesse, there is something I must tell you," he forced himself to say. He couldn't meet the man's eyes, shame and regret turning his voice husky.

"Aw, that's okay," Jesse murmured, obviously misinterpreting Hanzo's answer as a response to Jesse's question. "I'll treat you right, don't you worry. It'll be so good, you won't know what hit you." He trailed his mouth along the line of Hanzo's jaw, chapped lips catching against the rough stubble there.

"That's not... what I..." Hanzo's voice broke in the middle, then gave out entirely as Jesse bit down on his earlobe. Hanzo gasped, trembling as that tiny pain translated into a lightning bolt down his spine, making his cock jump in response. Jesse did it again, then nibbled his way up the outer shell, and Hanzo could do nothing but pant in reaction.

"So sensitive," Jesse murmured, clearly pleased by the discovery. "Oh yeah, this is gonna be fun. Not here, though. You deserve better than a back alley, 'specially for your first time. C'mon back to my place, baby. It ain't far."

He should object to the pet name. Hanzo didn't want Jesse thinking the cowboy could look down on him in any way. 

No, wait. That was _not_ the biggest issue here. "I..."

Slipping a hand between them, Jesse squeezed at Hanzo's cock, drawing a strangled groan from him and making him lose his train of thought once again. "You just follow my lead, darlin'," Jesse all but purred. He ducked down for another kiss, even hotter than the first, and Hanzo's brain fell off the tracks entirely.

He wasn't sure how far they went, lost in a daze of desire and confusion. Every time he started to get enough presence of mind back to think about his real purpose, Jesse would pull him into another nook or doorway or just kiss him right there in the street, leaving him breathless and senseless all over again. Hanzo might have suspected the man was doing it on purpose, to keep him off balance and unwary, except Jesse's equally powerful need was written in every line of his body.

Especially one particular line, hard and solid against Hanzo's hip every time they pressed together. Sometimes Jesse would grind against him, rocking their hips together, wedging his thigh between Hanzo's to press into Hanzo's cock as well. Each time left Hanzo more breathless and aching than the last.

Jesse's accommodations were in a run-down apartment building right on the edge of the industrial district. As soon as they got in the elevator, Jesse had Hanzo up against the wall again, but this time instead of kissing him, the taller man ran his mouth down Hanzo's throat, making him shiver.

"Darlin', you are something else," Jesse said, nipping at Hanzo's throat and drawing a groan from him. 

"This is..." Hanzo had to keep pausing for breath, every time Jesse bit or licked at his shockingly sensitive skin. "This is highly unusual for me. I don't... _do_ this. I have never wanted to, before." 

That made Jesse pause and look down at him, unexpectedly serious. "But you do wanna, now. Right? Don't let me railroad you into this if you don't want it, babe. And if there's anything I do that you don't like, don't hesitate to say the word, understand?"

The concern was so clearly genuine, Hanzo was touched. "I understand. I do not believe you would force me to do anything against my wishes." Hesitant, but wanting the contact, Hanzo lifted his hand and ran his fingers over Jesse's stubbled cheek. "It must have been hell for you, working in that place."

Darkness flitted through Jesse's eyes, shockingly deep and personal. "You got no idea," he replied, and there was a sharp edge to his voice. "And if what you did see disturbed you, then it's just as well you didn't go any further."

It was the perfect opportunity to bring up his real purpose for being here. All Hanzo had to say was that he was well aware of what went on behind closed doors in that den of sin. Instead what came out was, "Then I am glad you are free of it, and will not suffer any further. You deserve better."

Then the elevator dinged and the doors opened. Jesse caught Hanzo's hand, dragging him forward, and the opportunity was lost again. Or so Hanzo told himself, refusing to admit that he simply didn't _want_ to seize the opening, and cause this encounter to come to an abrupt, screeching halt.

Just a few more minutes. As soon as they were in Jesse's apartment, where nobody could listen in. Hanzo _would_ do his duty... but he wanted those few more minutes first.

Except of course, the moment they were inside with the door closed, Jesse was on him again. He crowded Hanzo up against the door, blocking him into the narrow space with his larger body, kissing fiercely. _Nobody_ had ever dared to attempt to dominate Hanzo in such a fashion before, but Jesse had no knowledge of Hanzo's position, wasn't aware of the power and authority he wielded.

Used to wield. Hanzo was nobody special now, but all of his training demanded that he push this arrogant American away and teach him his place. Remind him that Hanzo was not someone to be trifled with or looked down upon.

Yet all of his instincts insisted that this felt _good_ , that this was the best thing he'd ever experienced, and if he pushed Jesse away and ended it, he was going to regret it. For once in his life Hanzo didn't have to take control or make decisions about what to do next. He only needed to respond to the onslaught of sensation, and enjoy himself. Jesse was the one who knew what he was doing, and he was clearly happy to lead.

Instinct won out over training. Hanzo groaned into the kiss, hands rising to fist in Jesse's shirt, holding him close. His hips rocked up against the taller man's, driving the length of his cock against Jesse's muscled thigh. Jesse pushed back, keeping him pinned, grinding against him. Their tongues dueled back and forth, and Hanzo lost himself in the pleasure.

Jesse broke the kiss at last, but only so he could trail his mouth over Hanzo's jaw and throat again. "Darlin', I'm gonna make you feel so good, you won't know whether you're coming or going." Then he grinned, a curve of his lips against Hanzo's throat. "Well, I guess you'll be pretty sure you're coming, after all."

Even the terrible joke wasn't enough to break Hanzo's entrancement, beguiled by Jesse's body and taste and scent. 

The soft, resigned sigh in his ear, however, did a very thorough job of dampening the mood. Hanzo froze at the reminder that he and the cowboy were not alone, and swore at himself for forgetting.

"Anija." Genji's tone was apologetic, almost... regretful? Hanzo would have expected scolding or mocking. "If you're actually going to have sex with him, I am _not_ listening any longer. Call my burner when you're done and need me, but unless I hear otherwise from you in the next five seconds, I'm signing off."

Was Genji _encouraging_ Hanzo's utter lack of discipline? It certainly sounded like it, but that made no sense. Even Genji had never gone so far as to abandon a mission in the middle to have sex. Let alone _with_ the target.

"Darlin'?" Jesse sounded deeply concerned, and he raised his head to look down at Hanzo, eyes dark. "You okay? Went all stiff on me."

"I..." Once again, Hanzo dithered. This was ridiculous. He had Jesse in private, which had been his goal. Now he needed to stop being selfish and unprofessional, and do the damn job he'd come here for. 

And lose this incredible experience. Lose his chance to find out what all the fuss was about, what everyone enjoyed so much, with a man who wasn't trying to get anything out of Hanzo except pleasure for both of them. 

Swallowing, Hanzo made his choice, once and for all. The whole point of this insane venture was so he could have freedom from everything that was expected of him. So that he could do what he wanted, for once in his life. The discussion about Overwatch could wait a little longer. 

"I am fine," he said, dropping his eyes to Jesse's collarbone. At some point the first two buttons of his shirt had been undone, exposing tanned flesh - had Hanzo done that? The little hollow above the bone all but begged for Hanzo to run his lips over it. "It is only that I'm not... not accustomed to this. The intimacy - or the dominance." He narrowed his eyes. "Do not dare to think you are better than me, or above me in any way."

Jesse gave him a smile that warmed his eyes right through. "Naw, don't think of it like that. It ain't about dominance, or who's better than the other. If you wanna push me back on the bed and have your wicked way, I'm all for that, too. But seems to me you're the sort who spends all damn day being so in control, you just need a little nudge to help you relax and let someone else do the worrying for a change."

Relax and let someone else take the burden of worry off his shoulders. That worry had been heavy enough when his concern was for the entirety of the Shimada-gumi. Narrowing his focus down to only himself and Genji should have eased the weight, but instead it had increased it, because so much was at stake. To let go of all that worry and weight, even for a little while... yes, that did sound appealing.

"Very well, then." Hanzo tried to sound like the whole thing was his own idea. From the wicked little chuckle Jesse gave, Hanzo guessed he probably wasn't being terribly convincing. 

Not that it mattered, when Jesse ran his hands over Hanzo's chest, finding the bottom button of his vest and undoing it. Then the next, and the next, until the vest hung open, and Jesse started working on his shirt buttons, instead. Meanwhile Hanzo gave in to the temptation that had been hounding him, and ducked his head to taste that inviting little hollow and the sharp ridge of Jesse's collarbone.

The moan he wrung from the cowboy was entirely satisfying. Smirking, Hanzo flicked his tongue out to brush the dip, tasting healthy sweat and the musk of desire. When he nipped at the bone, Jesse's hands fumbled on Hanzo's buttons.

"Careful, darlin'," Jesse murmured, nibbling his way over the curve of Hanzo's ear. "Keep that up and I might forget myself, tear those buttons right off. Be a mite drafty for you later on."

Shivering at a particularly hard nip at the apex of his ear, Hanzo growled in reply. "You are being too slow."

"I'm tryin' to take my time, show you how good it can be." Jesse smoothed his hands down over Hanzo's chest, a stroking motion almost like he was being petted. Then he tweaked Hanzo's nipples with his thumbnails, right through the fine silk. 

The sudden jolt of sensation made Hanzo gasp and jump, heat boiling through him. "Jesse!"

"Mmmh. I do love the way you shout my name." Jesse had all the buttons undone now, and he repeated the stroking motion _inside_ Hanzo's shirt, rough callused fingers scraping over soft flesh and toned muscle. This time when he flicked Hanzo's nipples, Hanzo tried to brace for the stunning sensation.

It didn't help much. Hanzo fumbled Jesse's shirt open as well, wanting to retaliate, but got sidetracked when he realized how much more smooth, tanned flesh that gave him to explore with his mouth. Jesse didn't seem to mind, moaning under the touch, and Hanzo finally got his revenge by biting down on the taut peak of Jesse's nipple in turn.

"That's it," Jesse panted. "You're gettin' the idea. Go ahead and explore all you like, I don't mind." He paused, and glanced over his shoulder. "How 'bout a change of venue, though?"

Following his gaze, Hanzo saw the hotel bed in the middle of the room, covers in disarray and pillows askew. It reminded him of the messiness of Genji's futon, which in turn sent a stab of guilt through him at his selfishness, but he pushed it away. This was _his_ time, and Genji had all but given him permission to indulge. Hanzo was going to enjoy it as best he could.

"Yes," he murmured, licking again at the sensitive nub of flesh. "That would be agreeable."

Jesse chuckled. "Agreeable. I love the way you talk, babe. I feel like you're slummin' it with me."

"What? No." Startled that Jesse would say such a thing, Hanzo pulled back enough to look up at him. It was disconcerting that Jesse was so tall, but Hanzo was growing used to it. "Being in that place was certainly 'slumming it', by my standards. But _you_ are not." He felt his cheeks heat, flustered. "My standards for this are very high. _Very_ high."

"Don't you know how to sweet talk a fella," Jesse said, smiling as he ducked his head for a brief kiss. Then he grabbed the end of Hanzo's tie, still looped around his neck although the shirt was now completely unbuttoned.

And he tugged, using it like a leash to draw Hanzo after him.

Had there been even a hint of mockery or disdain in the man's expression, Hanzo would have put an end to the assignation then and there. Nothing showed in Jesse's warm brown eyes except desire and eager anticipation. So Hanzo followed, letting himself be led to the consequences of his first true choice as a free man.

"Kinda like that look on you," Jesse commented as he sank down to sit on the edge of the bed. He gave Hanzo a lazy up-and-down look, blatantly admiring the way Hanzo's open vest and shirt hung off his shoulders. He still had the end of the tie wrapped around his fist. "Business-sexy. Makes me wanna eat you up and drink you down. Look at that washboard."

Leaning in, Jesse brushed his mouth against the tense muscles of Hanzo's abs, tongue flicking out to trace the dip and curve of the flesh. The shockingly intimate touch made Hanzo draw in a sharp breath. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd knocked Jesse's hat off and fisted his hands in the cowboy's long hair, anchoring himself against the sweep of sensation.

It was warm, and wet, and should have felt ticklish or disturbing. The slow glide of mouth over muscle made Hanzo achingly aware of every inch of flesh that Jesse touched - and made him ache in a different way for that mouth to travel lower. "Jesse..."

As if he'd read Hanzo's mind, Jesse hooked the fingers of his free hand over Hanzo's waistband, and tugged the pants down an inch or so. The belt stopped it there, and Jesse made a disappointed noise.

At least, Hanzo _thought_ it was Jesse who'd made the noise, until the cowboy grinned up at him in unabashed delight. "Eager for it, huh? Don't worry, babe. I won't tease you. _Too_ much."

He finally let go of the tie, and attacked Hanzo's belt instead. The movements needed to undo the buckle caused Jesse's fingers to brush against the rigid line of Hanzo's cock. Each tiny touch made Hanzo's breath catch in his throat, until it felt like he couldn't breathe at all. 

Vaguely aware that he was supposed to be doing something, Hanzo shrugged his vest and shirt off, baring his torso. By that time Jesse had moved on to undoing Hanzo's fly, but the cowboy paused to stare when the swirling lines of the dragon tattoo were bared.

Jesse whistled in mingled admiration and respect. "Impressive ink. That musta hurt like a bitch. Worth it, though." He caught Hanzo's hand in his, turning it to give Jesse a better view of the forearm design. When he moved as if to trail his fingers over the lines, however, Hanzo pulled free.

"Do not," he said, and it came out sharper than he'd meant it to. Jesse looked surprised, and a little hurt. Hanzo struggled for words to explain that wouldn't make the situation worse. "The dragon is not a simple tattoo. What you were about to do would be... _intimate_ , on a level I do not think you intend for an encounter that lasts a single night."

Hurt faded as Jesse considered that, and finally nodded. "I think I get it. Whatever it is, it means somethin' important to you, somethin' you wouldn't share with a fling. All right, darlin'. I won't touch. Though damn, now it's forbidden fruit. I wanna trace every line of it with my tongue, see how you react."

The idea made Hanzo feel distinctly overheated. The 'tattoo' was both symbolic and real in a way that could not be explained by modern science, and the flesh it occupied was oddly more sensitive than the skin of his other arm. There were a _lot_ of lines, twisting and twining their way over the muscle beneath. He could well imagine Jesse taking the time to trace that labyrinth, all but worshipping the dragon - and Hanzo - in the process, and it would feel incredible.

It was very much the sort of act performed by a spouse, or at least a long-term lover. It had been ingrained in Hanzo from a young age that he must _never_ let anyone examine his dragon closely, unless he trusted them utterly. Not that someone could reproduce the effect of the dragon simply by copying the design, but centuries-old traditions didn't always make logical sense.

In that moment, Hanzo half wished he could shake loose of that childhood taboo, so he could experience the intensity of it. At the same time, he was oddly grateful to have something to hold back, so it didn't feel quite so much like he was losing himself utterly in the moment.

He did not dare to consider how much he already wished this would be more than a one-time encounter.

Jesse had Hanzo's pants undone now, and pushed them to the floor along with the boxers beneath. Hanzo felt exposed, standing there essentially naked while Jesse had only a few shirt buttons undone. Hanzo reached for Jesse's shirt again, determined to even the score, but the other man caught his hands. Hanzo scowled. "This is not meant to be one-sided."

"Oh, it ain't gonna be," Jesse assured him, his low, husky murmur accompanied by a wicked smirk that did nothing to set Hanzo at ease. "I'm gonna get plenty of enjoyment outta doin' this." He followed that pronouncement by wrapping long, callused fingers around the base of Hanzo's cock, squeezing with sweet pressure against the turgid flesh.

It was the first time Hanzo had ever experienced another person's hand on him in such a way. Whatever he might have seen, heard, or thought about such an act in the past, the reality of it blew imagination out of the water. A jolt of electricity shot up his spine, with heat burning after it, making him pant for air that no longer seemed to be available. His knees trembled, and he found himself clutching at Jesse's hair again to hold himself steady.

Jesse didn't seem to mind - possibly didn't even notice. He appeared entirely intent on his task, eyes focused on Hanzo's dick like it was a treat he was anticipating. He licked his lips, and the sight of his his tongue gliding wetly across the plump flesh nearly blew Hanzo's mind, imagining what it would feel like on his dick instead.

Then he didn't have to imagine anymore, and it was far better than anything he could have dreamed.

Jesse licked a long stripe up the length of him, then teased at the foreskin, dipping his tongue below to dart against the sensitive flesh beneath. When he flicked against the weeping slit, Hanzo cried out, unable to stop himself. He could feel the curve of Jesse's lips as the man grinned.

Finally Jesse pulled the loose foreskin back, and blew across the wet surface of the head. Hanzo groaned, then gasped as Jesse fastened his lips around the tip and sucked hard. More electric tingles flowed over Hanzo's nerves, and he shuddered beneath the onslaught. He was making outrageous noises, couldn't seem to stop himself, and a tiny part of him was just coherent enough to be grateful that Genji was no longer listening.

It was an embarrassingly short amount of time before Hanzo's groin began to tighten in preparation for release, his balls drawing up tight against his body. Vaguely he was aware that he was supposed to warn his partner, give them a chance to pull away rather than be forced to swallow the bitter load. The thought of losing that engulfing warmth and wet slide of flesh against sensitive flesh was dismaying, but Hanzo forced himself to speak. 

"Jesse..." Damn it, he couldn't think of a single English word through the haze of intense pleasure.

It didn't matter, because Jesse seemed to understand. He made an encouraging noise, and sucked harder, working his fist up and down the shaft. The stroking was good, but it was that hot, insistent suction that tipped Hanzo over the edge and made the world spin around him as he came.

Hanzo was no stranger to orgasm, being not at all shy to use his own hand when his body's needs required it. This was sharper, more intense and powerful, as if someone had poured molten metal down his spine and spilled it over his nerves. He shouted, a strangled cry that felt ripped from his chest, lost in the shivering pleasure of it.

When he opened his eyes - not sure when he'd closed them - he discovered that the spinning sensation hadn't been a product of his imagination. He'd collapsed at some point, and Jesse must have turned him to fall onto the bed, because there was a soft surface beneath his back and a tiled ceiling in his field of view.

Along with a widely grinning cowboy. Jesse must have been waiting for Hanzo to return to reality, because as soon as he saw he had Hanzo's attention, he winked and spoke. "All right there, darlin'? Looked intense."

It took a moment, but Hanzo managed to dredge his knowledge of English back out of his scrambled brain. "Fishing for compliments is a sign of insecurity." Honesty - and the hum of pleasure still lingering in his bones - compelled him to add, "You have absolutely no need to feel insecure about your prowess at sex."

That drew a laugh from the cowboy, who ran his hand through Hanzo's hair in a gesture somewhere between caressing and petting. "Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it so much."

A heavy lassitude was settling into Hanzo's bones, increasing their weight until it felt like far too much effort to move. Pleasure was receding into drowsiness, and he could have closed his eyes and fallen asleep then and there. He hadn't completely exhausted himself the way Genji had, but Hanzo had been driving himself hard for the past several days.

But there were many reasons he could not allow himself to simply roll over and go to sleep. Genji and their precarious situation was one. His innate sense of fairness was another. "I have done nothing for you," he protested, struggling to push himself up on his elbows.

"Sure you have," Jesse drawled, his husky voice the next thing to a purr. "I told you, I enjoy doin' that. Loved makin' you scream."

"I did not scream," Hanzo muttered, affronted by the idea. "I was... vocally enthusiastic in my praise of your skill."

"Yeah, where I come from, we call that screaming," Jesse laughed. 

Huffing, Hanzo redirected the topic of conversation back where he'd wanted it in the first place. "Still, you did not take true satisfaction from the act." He raised an eyebrow at the obvious tent straining the front of Jesse's jeans.

"Oh, I didn't say we were done." Jesse flicked open the remaining buttons of his shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. As the fabric parted it revealed smooth, tanned skin over taut muscles; either he spent a great deal of time shirtless in the sun, or his skin was naturally dark. Crisp, springy curls covered his chest, trailing down to a thinner line that crossed his abs and disappeared into his jeans. 

Hanzo's eyes followed that line as if they were iron pulled by a magnet. He reached out, placing both palms on Jesse's pecs, fascinated by the rough texture of the hair there. It was a sharp contrast to the smoothness of his skin elsewhere; the man was a study in contrasts, really. Hanzo got the impression that he could observe Jesse for a month and still not have found all the layers beneath the carefree cowboy exterior.

He drew his hands down, fingers finding the occasional bump or dip of a scar. More were visible at his sides, and on his arms when he shrugged the shirt off. Scarred flesh was nothing strange to a man who'd been raised to lead a Yakuza family, but even to Hanzo this seemed excessive. Especially considering how old most of them were, when Jesse surely must be no older than Hanzo.

"You've led a hard life, cowboy," Hanzo noted, tracing the curve of what felt like a knife slash, skittering across Jesse's ribs. Someone had attempted to go for the man's heart, and had been unable to find the sweet spot to slip the blade between the bones. Hanzo was glad for the unknown assailant’s incompetence.

"Easier than some, harder than most," Jesse agreed, subdued. He lifted his hand to cover Hanzo's, as if feeling the scars through him. "Fell in with a bad crowd as a teen, but I got lucky and was given a second chance. Most folks like me don't get that kind of opportunity, so I can't complain."

Had Overwatch been Jesse's second chance, as Hanzo and Genji hoped it would be theirs? Perhaps they really would be able to find a place to belong in Blackwatch, if they were not the only misfits in it.

It was a good opening. Hanzo knew he should bring it up, should confess the real reason he'd sought Jesse out. He told himself that he hesitated only because it was unfair that Jesse had not yet found his release, because he'd been so intent on pleasuring Hanzo. Once the scales were balanced, then he would break the spell of this impossible encounter.

Tugging his hand from beneath Jesse's grip, Hanzo continued his downward exploration. "The scars do not bother me," he murmured, in case that was in question. "As I'm sure you can see, I have a few of my own. I find you an intriguing mix of textures, and I think I might never get my fill of the contrasts."

Jesse's smile turned crooked. "Sorry to say, one night's all you get, darlin'. Now that I've quit, I'm gonna be moving on, looking for my next adventure. I don't tend to stick around anywhere long."

This time Hanzo simply ignored the opening, determined to see this through. "Then I will be satisfied with what opportunity to indulge I have. Let me touch you in return, Jesse. I... I want to taste you."

Never had Hanzo believed he would want to experience having another man's cock in his mouth. Let alone that he would crave it, as he now craved the taste of Jesse's body. It had always seemed to him to be a submissive act, pleasuring someone that way while receiving nothing in return. Jesse had proven him wrong - it was very much Jesse who had been in control a moment before, playing Hanzo like he was a skilled musician and Hanzo's body was his instrument.

"Thought you'd never ask," Jesse replied, delighted. "I'm all yours, darlin'. Have at."

He sprawled back onto the pillows, arms spread out across the low headboard. The posture looked lazy and casual, but the position highlighted the muscles in his chest and abs, made his biceps stand out. It also put the tent in his pants front and center. 

When the moment of truth came, Hanzo had expected that he would hesitate, be uncertain. Instead he was eager to touch and explore, reaching for Jesse's fly with hands that shook not from nerves, but from desire. He eased the metal zipper down, careful of the fragile skin beneath, to discover that Jesse had apparently gone commando. The man's thick, hard cock all but burst free of confinement, hanging heavy and solid against Jesse's stomach, framed by the parted denim and a dense thatch of dark curls.

 _Now_ Hanzo hesitated, eyes wide. "Ah. You are... rather impressive." The cliched phrase 'hung like a horse' jumped straight into his mind, all the more appropriate for the cowboy. Jesse's cock was huge, both in length and girth, at least to Hanzo's admittedly inexperienced eye.

"Yeah, now you know why I wanted to get you plenty hot and bothered before you got a peek," Jesse chuckled. He reached down, cupping himself loosely around the base, balls hanging over the curve of his thumb. "Don't worry, I ain't expecting you to take it all. Or any of it, for that matter. If you wanna keep this to just a hand job, that's okay too."

The way he said it suggested more than one partner had been frightened off in the past. But Hanzo was a ninja and a Yakuza, and not easy to frighten. In fact, he found that he very, very much wanted to find out if he _could_ take it all. "I shall take that as a challenge."

The way Jesse's eyes lit up at the declaration was all the reward needed. Hanzo shifted his position so he was on his hands and knees, bent over Jesse's lap, where he could run his mouth over the hard length of the other man's cock.

There was a musky scent to it, earthy and enticing. It carried a hint of clean sweat and bitter semen, but was mostly a concentrated version of Jesse's natural scent. Hanzo savoured it, then parted his lips to flick his tongue along the shaft. The skin there was like butter-soft velvet, rich and smooth, laid over steel as solid as any sword. It tasted much like it smelled, dark and heavy and erotic.

Jesse's cock jumped as Hanzo ran his mouth up to the tip. The man was circumcised, something Hanzo had only vaguely heard of. It left the head exposed, no extra skin to play with over the bulbous tip. Somehow that made him look even bigger, with all of his glorious flesh on display. Curious, Hanzo lapped at the slit, picking up a few drops of moisture that were bitter enough to sting his tastebuds. The way Jesse groaned, a low, desperate sound of need, was more than worth putting up with the unappealing taste.

Opening wide, Hanzo wrapped his lips around the head, and swallowed as much of the length as he could. Immediately he knew he was _not_ going to win this challenge. Even suppressing his gag reflex, he could only get about halfway down the shaft before he simply could take no more. 

Nevertheless, Jesse seemed impressed. "Goddamn, darlin', you do that better than most pros," the other man gasped out. "Not sure I believe this is your first time, no more."

Taking that as a compliment, Hanzo made a pleased noise. The shout Jesse gave in response startled him, and the way Jesse bucked his hips forced Hanzo to pull back or risk choking.

"Sorry," Jesse moaned, sliding his hands into Hanzo's hair and closing his fingers around the strands. "Sorry, I'm sorry. I'll stay still, just... fuck." He couldn't seem to get anything more coherent than that out.

Mollified, Hanzo returned to his quest to drive the man insane with pleasure, as Jesse had done to him. He bobbed his head, as he'd seen people do in videos, and that drew another desperate sound out of Jesse. Remembering how good the suction had felt, Hanzo tried that as well, cheeks hollowing with the effort he put into it.

He felt Jesse's thighs go tense beneath his hands, but the other man managed not to buck his hips this time. Instead he fisted his hands harder in Hanzo's hair, tugging the same way Hanzo must have been doing to him, when clinging as an anchor. The small, sharp sensation of each tug registered as a kind of intense pleasure, not pain, making it feel like a reward. 

Hanzo's jaw began to ache, but he ignored it. Jesse was writhing beneath him now, making garbled noises that might have been attempts to beg, and Hanzo wasn't missing a single moment of this. As he continued to bob his head up and down, he wrapped the fingers of his hand around the shaft and stroked in the same rhythm.

Whatever control Jesse had been clinging to broke at that point. With a shout he dug his hands into Hanzo's hair, and thrust his hips up once, twice, before shuddering as bitter semen flooded Hanzo's mouth. It was an effort to swallow the spurts rather than choke on them, but Hanzo sucked down every drop. 

When it was over, he withdrew slowly, making sure to draw his tongue over the slit to catch the last traces of moisture. Jesse had gone limp except for his grip on Hanzo's hair, and he was panting like he couldn't take in air fast enough. The moan he made when Hanzo slid his mouth off the man's cock was a stroke directly to Hanzo's ego. 

Hanzo felt surprisingly... powerful. _He_ had reduced Jesse to this quivering, satiated mass. _He_ had brought such ecstasy to his partner that he'd wrecked the man to the point of incoherence. _He_ had chosen to do this, and he'd done it well.

Stretching out on the bed alongside Jesse, Hanzo regarded the man's long, lean body with a sort of proprietary pleasure. He even reached out and stroked his hand over the muscles, running from Jesse's shoulder, down his chest, and over his hip to his thigh. The change in texture as he passed over different places was still just as fascinating as it had been the first time.

"Mmmh." Jesse made a sound like a lazy cat, and stretched in much the same manner. Rolling over onto his side, he opened his eyes and gave Hanzo a smug, sated smile. "So, whaddya think? Enjoy yourself?"

"Very much." Hanzo's voice was hoarse, and his jaw ached as he spoke, but nothing could detract from his contentment in that moment.

Nothing except the elephant in the room, the thing he'd been ignoring from the beginning. He wanted to keep putting it off, to see how much farther Jesse would take this, how much he could wring out of these stolen moments. But stolen was exactly what they were, and what he was stealing from was the security of his future.

And more importantly, Genji's future. If it were only his own life at stake, Hanzo would have continued to ignore the need to speak up. But he'd made a promise to his little brother to complete the mission, and a further promise to protect the younger man was inherent in them having run from their family together.

So, though it pained him greatly to break the idyllic moment, he forced the words out at last. "Jesse. There is something I must speak to you about."

Jesse gave him a disarming grin. "Aw, now, don't go all serious on me. And frankly, if you're married and cheating, I don't wanna know. That's on you, not me."

"What? No." Disconcerted by the unexpected twist to the conversation, Hanzo frowned. "That's not... It has nothing to do with what we've done here."

"Oh? Now you're startin' to worry me." Wariness crept in beneath the humour in Jesse's gaze, and he sat up in a position that would look casual to an untrained eye. Hanzo could see the way his body was tensed, ready to move if necessary, anticipating a potential fight. Subconsciously, perhaps, but ready nonetheless. 

"I'm afraid that I approached you under false pretenses." Hanzo couldn't quite meet the man's gaze, and fixed his eyes on the hollow of Jesse's throat instead. The pulse there was a touch too fast. "Please understand, _this_ was not my intention. This was..." He struggled for words. "You are very compelling, and rather irresistible. I do not regret this."

Now Jesse was actively frowning, and no longer trying to appear laid-back. "Just spit it out," he demanded, his tone unmistakable as anything but a growl.

Drawing a deep breath, Hanzo braced himself. "I know you’re in Blackwatch."


	5. Chapter 5

"I know you’re in Blackwatch."

Jesse reeled. Just a handful of words, none of 'em with much impact on their own. What was the saying? 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me'.

These words hurt like a max-force pulse bomb straight to the chest, striking so hard that it blew the breath out of him and left him dizzy with shock. He had to repeat them a few times in his head to force himself to acknowledge that they meant what he thought they meant.

His cover had been blown. Hanzo - reticent, uncertain, wildly passionate Hanzo - was some kind of unknown operative, and he'd sussed out Jesse's real identity somehow. Then seduced him to lower Jesse's guard, and then... what? Admitted what he'd done? What the hell was the end game here?

It didn't matter. His cover was blown, and the man Jesse had thought would be a fun romp on his last night here had turned out to be a snake in the bush. 

Once that _finally_ registered, Jesse was up off the bed, ducking down to snatch his Peacemaker out from underneath. It was fully loaded, and he flipped the safety off as he spun, drawing a bead on Hanzo.

Except the man was no longer where Jesse had left him. Fast as Jesse had moved, Hanzo was faster, rolling off the mattress on the other side and taking up a defensive martial arts stance. That pose backed up the statement that had already been made by the man's impressive muscles; this was someone who could kill with no weapon but his own body, and knew how to do it with expert speed and precision. Naked or not, the Asian man radiated lethal menace.

Mexican standoff. The gun _should_ have given Jesse the edge, but they were close enough that he had a feeling Hanzo might be able to reach him too. And Jesse would swear there was a faint blue glow coming from the man's tattooed arm - some kind of energy weapon?

"Well, now." Jesse let his drawl stretch out, exaggerating it until the words sounded like they were pushing their way out through molasses. "Ain't this a pretty pickle. _Not_ what I was expecting you to say."

"I mean you no harm, and intend no threat," Hanzo said, but the ready tension in his body cast his promise into some doubt. He might not _intend_ threat, but he was clearly willing to dish it out if Jesse started the fight.

Jesse's lip curled, a furious snarl. He desperately wished he had his cigar, feeling more naked without it in a fight than without his clothes. If he was being honest, most of the anger was aimed at himself, but Hanzo made a much more appealing target. 

This assignment was the kind he hated most, when he had to stand by and watch and not _do_ a goddamn thing while innocent people were getting hurt. Obtaining the proof that would allow Overwatch to shut down that filthy club wasn't enough. Not when Jesse knew it would take weeks or even months for anything to actually happen, when there were people with this much power and influence involved. Meanwhile, there was a passel of kids down in that basement who were suffering horribly, and Jesse had to live with that knowledge.

Stopping himself from marching down there to put a bullet in every one of those bastards' brains - a far kinder fate than they deserved, but better than letting them continue as they were - had taken everything Jesse had. The last thing he'd expected was to find a distraction in one of the patrons, but Hanzo was everything that _didn't_ belong in that place. He could hardly be any more perfect to catch Jesse's interest if he'd been designed for it.

And now Jesse found out Hanzo _had_ been designed for exactly that. He was furious with himself for falling for it, for letting his guard down, for flubbing his mission like a fucking greenhorn. 

"If you're gonna explain, I suggest you do it fast. Before my trigger finger gets itchy." Jesse cocked the hammer of his six-shooter, priming it to fire just that tiny bit faster. The click seemed to fill the room, and he saw Hanzo tense further at the sound.

"My brother and I are the heirs to a powerful Yakuza family," Hanzo said. Jesse's brow wrinkled at the unfamiliar word; Hanzo must have seen the confusion, because he explained. "The Yakuza are comparable to the Bratva, Mafia, or Triads."

Those terms, Jesse was more familiar with. Bratva and the Triads were the sort of thing Overwatch often dealt with, and Jesse had known what the Mafia was most of his life. "So you're a gangster," he concluded, unimpressed.

Hanzo seemed mortally offended by the comparison. "Certainly not. Gangs are ragtag groups of ruffians, barely organized and often completely without honour. The Shimada-gumi has _centuries_ of tradition behind it, and honour is..." 

He paused, and looked like a man who'd just realized the worm wasn't at the bottom of the tequila bottle anymore. "No," he corrected himself, his voice heavy and shoulders drooping. "I lie. We are _utterly_ without honour, but this is a reality I have only recently been forced to confront. That is why Genji and I are here."

Jesse raised an eyebrow at him. "You decided to track me down and seduce me because your family's without honour? Not sure that says much good about you, or this mess." 

"No," Hanzo protested. "As I've already said, this... _this_ was not part of our plan." He was growing more flustered by the minute, and his nudity clearly bothered him. He kept shifting as if he wanted to cover himself, then realizing that to do so would give Jesse the upper hand and break the standoff.

Jesse was unashamed of his body, and perfectly willing to have this fight buck naked. All the more so if it gave him an advantage over Hanzo. "Clock's still tickin', darlin'." The endearment had a sharp edge to it this time, making it clear that it was no longer affectionately meant. 

Hanzo's fists clenched, and he bowed his head, though he kept a wary eye on Jesse. "Genji has always argued that our family had lost its way, and its honour in the process. I used to defend our actions, until the elders ordered me to kill him for being too troublesome, and I realized he had been correct all along. Now we are fleeing for our lives. The Shimada-gumi will do anything to get us back; we are the last of the main bloodline, and without at least one of us, the family will lose a great deal of power and influence."

"Still not seein' how any of this led to me." Jesse tapped his foot to indicate he was losing patience, though the gesture had somewhat less impact when it was his bare toes on carpet. 

Hanzo lifted his gaze again, fixed intently on Jesse's. "There are not many entities powerful enough to go against our family. With Genji working together with me, we can beat off any attack, but there are ways the Shimada-gumi can retaliate against us that we cannot counter. We need the protection of an agency that even the Shimada-gumi would hesitate to anger, and of our limited options, Overwatch is the only one that would give us a way to do something _better_ than the life that we left."

Jesse was seeing a pattern here, in that once again this was something that could hardly have been better constructed to catch his interest, and make him sympathize with the brothers. Trying to flee from life in a gang? Wanting to make a better mark in the world than being a criminal and a killer? Yeah, that was tailor-made for Jesse.

"We are not asking for charity," Hanzo continued, stiffly dignified. "We would be _very_ powerful assets to your organization, and I believe Blackwatch could make good use of our skills. Since walking up and requesting to be recruited was not an option, we thought we would begin the process of proving our usefulness by showing that we could track down one of your agents."

It almost sounded reasonable, on the surface of it. You didn't join Overwatch; Overwatch recruited _you_. And since Blackwatch didn't officially exist, Hanzo was right that there was no way to attempt to _get_ recruited.

But Jesse kept circling around to the fact that this was all too pat, too perfectly aimed at him in particular. It could be a coincidence. Maybe it was. But Jesse hadn't survived this long by being naive and gullible.

Part of Jesse very much wanted to shoot now, and ask questions not at all. Reyes and Morrison might scold him for not getting more info out of Hanzo first, but they would likely agree that eliminating the potential threat was a reasonable action for him to take. Another part of him wanted to perform that interrogation, find out exactly who'd sent Hanzo and why the man had chosen this route to get Jesse off guard.

Because at the root of it all, Jesse was _hurt_. He'd thought this was something real. Brief, by necessity, but genuine. Despite the gossip he knew got passed around about him, Jesse was quite picky about who he chose to share his body with, and how. Now instead of washing off the filth of this assignment with something good, he felt violated on top of the shit he was already dealing with.

"Jesse?" Hanzo sounded wary, and was looking at Jesse like a man might regard a rattler that was ready to strike. "Please say something."

Realizing he'd been standing there like an idiot, absorbed in his emotional turmoil, Jesse snarled. "Goddamn it. How the fuck am I supposed to believe a word you say, after you pull a stunt like this? Why the _hell_ didn't you fuckin' lead with this the moment we we alone? How can I see that as anything but manipulation?"

"You are... very persuasive. And I suppose... in many ways, this is the first real choice I have ever made for _myself_ , not on behalf of my family or what was expected of me. I lost myself in the pleasure of it." Hanzo flexed his fingers in and out of fists, and wasn't meeting Jesse's eyes again. 

If he _was_ an operative, he was awfully shitty at masking his body language, because he was shouting his embarrassment loud and clear. Or else he was fucking _stellar_ at masking his body language, and projecting exactly what he wanted Jesse to see.

Fuck. This shit was his least favourite part of being in Blackwatch. Twisty, paranoid thinking came naturally to Reyes, but Jesse preferred to face things head-on.

The simple fact was, Jesse wasn't able to think rationally or objectively about Hanzo right now. As much as he disliked rewarding the bastard for using him like this, Jesse couldn't quite bring himself to shut Hanzo down entirely. If what the man was claiming turned out to be legit, Jesse would hate himself if he didn't help the brothers, giving them the same second chance that Reyes had given Jesse in turn.

"Here's how this is gonna throw down," Jesse said. His tone remained cold and unfriendly, but he did ease the hammer back up on the Peacemaker, and tipped the muzzle down. He could still bring it up quickly, but it was a signal that he was at least no longer on a literal hair trigger. "I'll give you a chance to pitch your cause to my commander, but we're doing it on my terms - which means you get to be a prisoner. No weapons, no tricks, and no chance of you running off or turning on me."

It looked rather like someone had rammed an iron rod down Hanzo's spine - or maybe up his ass. He drew himself up to his full height, radiating offended fury. "Prisoner? Absolutely not. There is no reason for such a step to be taken."

"You wanna talk to my boss, or not?" Jesse countered. "It's my way or the highway, darlin'. You let me tie you up so's I know where you're at and what you're up to, or you can walk out the damn door right this second. Or I can shoot you after all, I s'pose. What's it gonna be?"

For a long moment Hanzo stared at him, clearly waging an internal struggle with himself. When he finally spoke, it sounded like he was forcing the words out through clenched teeth. "May I at least dress first?"

Jesse had honestly expected Hanzo to refuse outright. The fact that he was agreeing might tip the scales in favour of the idea that the man really was this desperate. That then shifted Jesse’s anger just enough that he was able to resist the extreme temptation to be petty. "Yeah, you can have the pants, but I'll be patting you down thorough."

"I assumed as much." With slow, deliberately telegraphed motions, Hanzo reached for the pants he'd discarded at the side of the bed. His cheeks heated fiercely red as he seemed to take in how wildly their clothes had been scattered.

As soon as the pants were on, Jesse gestured with the muzzle of his gun for Hanzo to take a seat at the sturdy metal-framed desk chair. "Hands on the arms, and if you lift a finger, I'll shoot," Jesse ordered him. He yanked open his mostly-packed suitcase, dug into the contents until he was able to access the hidden compartment at the bottom. He had several thin, flexible restraining ties, which he quickly used to secure Hanzo's limbs to the chair.

Hanzo endured with obvious reluctance, his body so tense the muscles of his bare torso looked chiselled in stone. Jesse paused when he grasped the other man's left wrist, staring at the tattoo. It was _definitely_ glowing, a blue light that was faint but noticeable. And if Jesse hadn't known better, he'd have sworn the inked lines of the dragon were moving in a slow, twining pattern.

"Whatever that is, you'd better cut it out, before I decide it's a weapon and have to find a drastic way to rid you of it," Jesse warned the other man.

Hanzo glared back at him, apparently pushed to his limit and not willing to submit further. "It _is_ a weapon, and the main reason I will be valuable to Overwatch, so ridding me of it would be unwise. It... responds to my emotions. I am unable to completely suppress it at the moment, but I will not activate it." 

Not convinced, Jesse stared at the twisting lines. "Sounds like the sorta bullshit you'd try to feed me in order to keep me from taking a weapon away, far as I can tell." He ran his fingers over Hanzo's forearm, intending to poke at the tattoo and see if he could feel anything.

Hanzo had been tense, but now he went _rigid_ , and he sucked in a sharp breath. Jesse stopped a fraction of an inch from the first line of ink, looking up at him. Hanzo's expression wasn't the worry of a man who feared his weapon was about to be discovered. It was a look Jesse had seen far too often over the last days - fear of violation. 

Whatever else the man might have been lying about, it seemed that the intimacy of someone else touching the tattoo was real. Deliberately, Jesse lifted his hand away, and the relief in Hanzo's eyes was nearly palpable.

Jesse had many flaws, and he could be an asshole when he needed to be. But he would not force himself on someone. Not like that.

"That glow gets any brighter, I might decide to shoot you in the elbow and make sure you can't use it for a while," he warned. He started a proper pat-down, beginning at Hanzo's feet and working his way up. Half-naked or not, Jesse was thorough about it, not assuming that bare flesh meant nothing hidden, though he did avoid the left arm and shoulder.

Some part of Jesse still wanted to linger, let his fingers trace the curves and planes of hard muscle and silky flesh, but he forced himself to focus and be professional. When he found the tiny, flesh-coloured earbud in Hanzo's left ear canal, Jesse cursed himself for an oblivious fool. "Your brother been listening the whole time?" Because _that_ thought wasn't embarrassing. Not at all.

Hanzo apparently felt the same; another bright flush crossed his cheeks, and he looked distinctly uncomfortable. "He closed the channel when it became clear that I was no longer using a potential assignation as a ruse to get you alone. Neither he nor I would be willing to have stayed connected when things progressed beyond that."

Standing, Jesse moved to pull his own clothes on. He might not be body-shamed, but he wanted the armour of his gear if and when this all went sideways. Actually, on second thought, there wasn't any 'if' about it. "Where is he now?"

"In a hotel, in the city," Hanzo admitted, still watching Jesse warily. "Most likely passed out from exhaustion - he spent days tracking down an opportunity for us to make contact with Blackwatch. A mission like this is more his specialty than mine, but as the window of opportunity was so short, I was forced to take it instead."

Or maybe the guy was sitting in a building across the street, with a sniper rifle aimed through the window straight at Jesse. Damn it, now he couldn't _stop_ being paranoid.

"Start at the beginning, and be convincing," Jesse ordered, and sat down on the edge of the bed, facing Hanzo. With a grimace, the other man obeyed.

The story that unfolded was consistent with what Hanzo had already told Jesse, and certainly painted a picture that explained why the brothers would be going about this the way they were. It sounded like the Shimada Yakuza were impressively twisted and fucked up. Raised in that kind of environment, without any 'normal' frame of reference in terms of a moral compass - or human behaviour - it probably seemed perfectly reasonable to them to try crashing an undercover mission to prove their worth.

If what Hanzo was saying was true, then the brothers weren't just custom-made to attract Jesse, they were a perfect fit for Blackwatch. Jesse wasn't sure he bought the whole 'ninja' thing, and Hanzo was still refusing to explain exactly what that glow was about other than that it was 'powerful' and tied to their bloodline, but Reyes would love to get his hands on a couple of martial arts and stealth infiltration experts. 

At the end Jesse was pretty much resigned to the fact that this decision was going to be out of his hands. There was enough possibility that Hanzo was what he said he was, that Jesse _needed_ to pass this on to a higher power, whatever his personal feelings about the potential betrayal might be.

"All right," Jesse said, his voice as heavy as his body felt. Weariness dragged at him, emotional and physical both. "You've convinced me enough to give you a chance. Final decision is above my paygrade, but I'll take you to my commander."

Hanzo had held himself stiff and dignified throughout the recital and Jesse's prodding questions, but now his shoulders slumped with what sure looked like relief. "Thank you. I realize now that I handled this badly. Genji would have known better what to do, but I am... inexperienced with people." His mouth twisted. "At least, with people I cannot simply order to behave as I wish them to. I suspect I have a great deal to learn."

"Sounds like it," Jesse agreed. "Next step is I think I need to get a handle on this brother of yours. You got a way to reach him?"

"A burner phone number," Hanzo said. His eyes had gone wary again. "Do we need to involve him? Perhaps it would be better for your commander to vet me, and then bring him in."

"Well then I guess he doesn't wanna be in Blackwatch all that much." Jesse's smile was sharp, and not all that friendly. "I ain't leaving a potential threat at my back. For all I know he's watching us right now, or has a way to track you. I want him where I can see him. We're gonna call him, and you're gonna tell him to surrender himself. No weapons, no tricks."

Hanzo seemed to struggle with that for a moment, then his jaw firmed. "No. The whole point of all of this is to grant him his freedom, not to trade his gilded cage for a real one. I will not allow him to become a prisoner. You will do what you must to assure yourself that I am who I say I am, and why I am here. If and when you are satisfied, then I will contact him."

Protecting his little bro. Sacrificing himself, to allow his brother to have a chance. Jesse could admire that, even as the refusal frustrated him. If he were in Hanzo's position, and the story was true, Jesse would probably have done much the same. True or not, Jesse could tell this was a point that Hanzo wouldn't budge on.

Placing the earbud down on the bedside table, Jesse smashed the butt of his Peacemaker against the tiny device. It resisted the first blow, the casing cracking but not giving way, and he raised an eyebrow. This was high-tech, top of the line, and expensive. Whatever his reason for being here, Hanzo hadn't lied about his organization having cash to spare. 

The second hit did the trick, crushing the casing and scattering micro-electronics across the surface of the table. Hanzo winced, his expression pained but resigned, as he lost the ability to easily reach whoever was on the other end. And, hopefully, as that person's ability to track Hanzo was destroyed. Even if there was still a functioning tracker, it would be left behind here in the hotel room.

There was still a possibility that Hanzo had an embedded tracker of some kind. Jesse didn’t have the right equipment with him to be able to find that sort of thing, this not being the kind of mission where he should have needed it. 

Well, maybe it was a good test of Hanzo’s sincerity. If there _was_ something hidden, Overwatch would find it eventually. “Anything else I oughta know about?” Jesse asked him. 

Hanzo hesitated, then nodded with reluctance. “I have contact lenses that transmit visual data.”

Jesse whistled. That kind of tech made the earpiece look like a kiddie toy. Even Overwatch didn’t use that sort of thing. “You weren’t kidding about the money your family pulls in, huh?” Leaning in, he studied Hanzo’s eyes carefully, and spotted the faint line created by the edge of the contact lens. “Hold still. Wouldn’t wanna poke your eye out.”

Hanzo held himself perfectly still as Jesse carefully pulled the contacts free. He then tore each lens in half, noting that Hanzo winced again. That probably meant there had indeed been a way for his brother to track him through them. Or that they were as expensive as Jesse thought they were, and Hanzo wouldn’t be able to easily replace them again. 

"All right, darlin'." He stood, grabbed Hanzo's shirt, then used a small knife to cut the plastic ties on Hanzo's arms, but not the ones on his legs. "We'll finish gettin' you dressed, then head for my extraction point. From here on, it's my commander you need to convince, not me. And I gotta warn you, Reyes is an even more paranoid bastard than I am."

"At least I will not have personally insulted him to start the discussion off on the wrong foot," Hanzo sighed. "Jesse..."

"McCree," Jesse corrected him, rather harshly. Hearing his given name from the man was now rubbing salt in the raw wound, reminding him of the way Hanzo had sighed the same name less than an hour before. "Only people I like get to call me Jesse."

Hanzo dipped his head in acknowledgement. "McCree. I _am_ sorry."

"Me, too, Shimada." That much, Jesse couldn't deny. It had been a good time while the fling lasted, and he couldn't help but wonder how much more fun they could've had if Hanzo hadn't turned out to be a plant.

Too bad they'd never find out, because this was the kind of bullshit that Jesse couldn't easily move past, and wasn't sure he wanted to. Honesty and loyalty meant a lot to him, and Hanzo had betrayed him on a deep level that mere words would never smooth over.


	6. Chapter 6

Hanzo was torn between mortified embarrassment and nervous apprehension as they approached McCree's extraction point. He couldn't believe how badly he had messed this up, all because of his selfish desire to enjoy the freedom he had not yet truly earned. Now he was tied with his arms behind his back, being frog-marched to an unknown location, and the man he'd hoped to have as an ally was treating him very much as an enemy.

With the comm destroyed and no opportunity to try to call Genji's burner, Hanzo had no idea what his brother's status was. If their positions were reversed, if Genji had been the one to approach McCree and then disappeared, Hanzo would have torn the world apart to find his brother. For all their arguments and differences, Hanzo would defend Genji against any outside threat, to the death if need be. That was how family worked. Or at least, how it was _supposed_ to work.

Of course, Genji would never have been placed in this predicament in the first place, because Genji would not have forgotten himself and abandoned his actual purpose. Oddly, for all of the younger man's escapades and refusal to buckle down and do his duty, the one sin Genji had never committed was goofing off when he _was_ forced into a job. 

Perhaps that should have been the family's first clue that it wasn't laziness or hedonism causing Genji to avoid his work, or anything else that could be easily corrected with punishments.

Apparently the extraction location was the rooftop of a warehouse outside the city, dark and silent in the extreme early hours of the morning. The dropship that flew down to meet them was in stealth mode, engines muffled and running lights off, making it barely identifiable as anything more than a strangely-moving dark cloud.

The pilot was excellent, setting down on the narrow clear space without a bobble, despite the lack of landing lights. After a moment the bay ramp dropped, revealing a tall, broad-shouldered man standing at the top, arms crossed as he looked down on them. 

Hanzo wasn't all that familiar with the many shades of gaijin skin, but he thought the man might be somewhere in the Latino category. To many, he would probably seem imposing, with his sculpted muscles and the vicious scars that marred his face. Never mind the enormous shotguns hung casually at his hips. 

The man all but radiated 'thug', until Hanzo looked in his eyes and saw the cold, implacable intelligence that shone there. His expression held a casual arrogance that suggested he was accustomed to saying 'jump' and having others ask 'how high' after already launching. McCree had said he was contacting his commander, but Hanzo now got the impression this might be more than one step up the chain of command.

Or else McCree himself was far more than the simple agent Hanzo and Genji had assumed him to be. If McCree was highly placed in the organization, that would explain his disproportionately suspicious reaction to being approached in the manner Hanzo had utilized. There might be more depth to his misstep than Hanzo had realized.

Stepping off the ramp, the newcomer gave Hanzo an up-and-down look, gaze clearly judging and finding him wanting. "So you're the guy who caught Jesse with his pants down, huh?" His voice was gruff, tone rather dismissive. Hanzo took note of the use of McCree's given name, an indication that the man was close personally with this superior. 

Hanzo flushed hotly, once again mortified by how badly his unprofessional behaviour was coming back to bite him. "As I have said, it was not my intention to seduce McCree in order to lower his guard. That was a poorly thought out impulse, which I acknowledge was a mistake."

"Hey," McCree protested, as flushed as Hanzo. He'd lit a cigar and jammed it in his mouth the moment he and Hanzo left the hotel, and now he removed it to gesture. "You don't gotta tell him _everything_. Reyes, it ain't what you think."

The man - Reyes - raised an eyebrow at McCree. There was a wealth of unspoken communication in that single expression: teasing, scolding, disappointment, and even sympathy. "Seriously, McCree? You didn't think sleeping with him was worth putting in the report?"

Looking away, McCree clamped the cigar between his teeth again, and mumbled around it. "I was gonna fill you in, but I didn't want it in the official documents that might get reviewed, is all. Yeah, okay, I was an idiot."

Glancing between them, Hanzo was confused. "But your commander mentioned the indiscretion first... ah. It's a figure of speech, isn't it?"

Lips twitching with what had to be a suppressed smirk, Reyes nodded. "He said his cover had been blown, but didn’t say how. The phrase means being caught off guard, or by surprise."

A familiar voice with a heavy Japanese accent spoke from above and behind them all. "Then you may wish to invest in belts - or at least pay more attention to your surroundings."

McCree and Reyes both drew their guns and spun, sighting on the roof of the dropship. Genji crouched there, one hand braced on the tail fin, dressed for battle and odachi ready in his other hand. The blade of the extra-long katana shimmered with green energy, indicating he'd woken his dragon but not yet called upon it. Slung over his shoulder and back were Hanzo's katana, quiver, and bow.

Relief shot through Hanzo. He'd worried that Genji wouldn't be able to track him, or wouldn't even wake early enough to try. At the same time, a new kind of concern made his heart race, because this was not the wisest way for Genji to approach the situation.

"What the fuck is this?" Reyes growled, expression now distinctly unfriendly. "So it’s an ambush after all, huh?"

Was it Hanzo's imagination, or did McCree look disappointed? Betrayed, certainly, but it seemed like there was a more personal sadness and regret in his eyes. "I fuckin' knew it."

"Not an ambush," Genji corrected them. His tone was soft and smooth, which Hanzo recognized as his brother's most dangerous mood, but the Blackwatch agents were unlikely to understand the threat level. "A meet-up. You weren't planning to leave without me, were you? I'm sure those restraints on my brother were placed there by mistake. Perhaps you should remove them."

"Genji, do not attack them." Hanzo spoke in English, so the other men wouldn't think he and his brother were plotting something. "I agreed to this. I do not require assistance."

Genji snorted. "Right. And I'm sure you'd believe me, if our positions were reversed."

"The hell makes you think you've got any leverage to be making demands?" Reyes said, eyes narrowed. Though his guns were oversized and must surely weigh a great deal, his hands didn't waver as he continued to aim at Genji. "In case you haven't noticed, you brought a sword to a gunfight."

"Did I?" Genji's answering smile was too bright, too sharp. The glow from his blade increased, and Hanzo saw the first faint coils of energy swirling around it.

"Enough," Hanzo snapped. "Genji, this is not furthering our goals. If you get yourself shot for foolish posturing, do not expect sympathy from me."

McCree made a strangled sound that Hanzo thought might be a muffled laugh. "Well, you're brothers, all right. That much of your story checks out." 

A hint of more genuine amusement crept into Genji's voice. "This is nothing. You should see us when we're actually arguing. By our standards, we've been getting along sickeningly well for the last few days. But even at our worst, I would not take kindly to anyone who chained my brother as you have."

"This is ridiculous," Reyes declared. "All right, kid, you've made your point. You two are scary badass ninjas or whatever, and would fit right in. If you want any chance of actually being recruited, put that sword away and come down here. _Then_ I'll think about letting your brother loose."

"Do as he says," Hanzo commanded, glaring at his brother. Immediately he realized that had been a mistake, as Genji gave him a narrow-eyed look in return, and he could practically see the urge to flout authority running through his little brother's mind.

Thankfully, for once sense won over rebellion. Reluctantly, Genji turned the sword and slid it home in the sheath at his back, the green glow dissipating. Then, as Reyes and McCree relaxed and lowered their muzzles slightly, Genji flipped a trio of shuriken over his knuckles to sit between his fingers, then launched them... at Hanzo.

Having more or less expected the action, Hanzo had moved his bound hands out away from his body, and now stood perfectly still. The shuriken sliced across the plastic tie, one-two-three in exactly the same spot, and the restraint gave way. Bringing his hands around to his front, Hanzo examined his wrists. Not a single scratch on his skin. He honestly hadn't thought Genji could be that accurate. 

Yet one more skill Genji had hidden from them all, honing in secret. At this point, Hanzo was no longer surprised.

Reyes and McCree had jerked their guns up again, with McCree aimed at Genji and Reyes turned this time to point at Hanzo. In a casual motion, Genji hopped down off the top of the ship, ignoring the threat of the weapons. He landed lightly on his feet, then unslung Hanzo's katana from his back, though he left it in the sheath. Even still, the move made the Blackwatch agents tense further.

Bowing with his eyes lowered, Genji offered the sword and saya to Hanzo, held properly in both hands. "Aniue." He used the formal version of ‘older brother’, his voice solemn, acknowledging the weight and honour of his duty in guarding the ancestral blade of their family.

Hanzo bowed back, though he kept his gaze on Reyes and McCree, just in case. "Thank you," he murmured in Japanese, just as formal, accepting the blade with both hands. He hooked it into place on his belt, hanging at his hip. Genji then handed over Stormbow and the quiver in a more normal manner, and Hanzo accepted them as well.

All the while Reyes looked on sourly, and McCree with an expression of mingled bafflement and anger. In the end Reyes rolled his eyes, and lowered his shotguns to point at the ground. "Was all that meant to impress us? Because it's not working."

"Some things deserve respect," Genji replied, shifting to a seemingly casual stance. "Even from me. Are we going, or are we standing around to argue and threaten some more while the sun rises and you lose the cover of darkness for your extraction?"

Reyes sighed, and there was a certain long-suffering sound to his exasperation that made Hanzo wonder if the commander was accustomed to dealing with misbehaving subordinates. Glancing at McCree, who was doing a poor job of masking a grin in response to his commander’s ire, Hanzo concluded the team structure of Blackwatch was perhaps not as rigidly military as he'd been led to believe.

Or else McCree was as impudently irreverent as Genji, which seemed increasingly possible. Hanzo experienced a faint sense of dread at the thought that the two might become friends in the end.

"In the ship," Reyes ordered. "We'll sort the rest out on the way. Either of you draws a weapon again and I'll shoot it out of your hand, and I won’t particularly care if the hand goes with it. Got me?"

"We understand." Hanzo bowed his head, and Genji tipped his as well. They waited until McCree had boarded, then followed the man up the ramp, leaving Reyes to take the rear where he could keep an eye on them.

As the ramp closed, Reyes looked between the three of them, landing on McCree. "You're not rated for this bird, Jesse. Think you can keep an eye on them while I fly? Preferably without anybody's pants ending up down, figuratively or otherwise?"

"Ha. Ha." McCree said the words deadpan, not a hint of humour in them, as he glared at his commander. "Very funny. Go fly the damn plane." Reyes was chuckling as he ducked into the cockpit and closed the bulkhead between them.

Leaning close to his brother, ignoring McCree’s wary gaze, Hanzo dropped his voice and switched to Japanese. "How did you find us?"

"I napped a while, then got worried when I realized you'd never called or even left a message," Genji replied in the same language. "I followed the tracker toward you, but it cut out halfway there. So I kept going in a straight line, and was lucky enough to spot you leaving the hotel. I stayed on the rooftops right behind you. What were you planning to do if I hadn't?"

"Do my best to convince them to recruit us both, and then contact you." Hanzo shrugged. "Things... did not work out quite how I'd hoped. It was necessary to allow McCree to believe I was subdued, in order to convince him I was acting in good faith."

He could have broken free of the restraints if he'd truly needed to. Though it would have taken a few seconds, and potentially given McCree enough time to react, which would then have led to a fight that was not truly winnable. Whether Hanzo triumphed in the battle or not, it would have destroyed any chance he had of using Overwatch to ensure Genji's protection from their family.

Genji made a sound of interested curiosity, and grinned. The wicked sparkle in his eyes was not quite enough warning for Hanzo to stop him before he said, "Have fun? Was it worth it, at least?" Of course, the brat spoke in English, and raised his voice enough for McCree to hear.

The back of his neck burned as Hanzo cast a glance at McCree, who was also blushing again. Hanzo floundered, unable to think of how to answer the question. Either he'd be insulting Jesse, or giving his little brother far more personal information than he was comfortable with. "I do not think that is any of your concern," he settled on, hoping he didn't sound quite as flustered as he felt.

Despite his blush, McCree's smile wasn't an expression of embarrassment. It was dark and unfriendly. "Oh, he did his job gettin’ my guard down, don't you worry. Guess we did have some fun in the process, at least."

"That's not..." Hanzo started yet again to protest, but was interrupted by a crow of laughter from Genji.

"You think..." Genji choked on another laugh, struggling to get the words out coherently. "You think Hanzo seduced you... for the _mission_? My brother, who has been so primly chaste I was seriously starting to believe he was some level of asexual?" He lost the battle, laughing so hard he was forced to brace himself against the wall of the ship, hardly able to catch his breath.

"Genji!" Hanzo wasn't certain whether to be scandalized or insulted that his brother had been contemplating his romantic life in any fashion. 

And now he felt awkwardly like he had to explain, so Jesse would understand and not think less of him. Not that Hanzo believed McCree could hold him in much lower esteem, at the moment. "There were expectations placed on me as heir to the clan. I had to marry for the benefit of the family, not my own whims. There was no point in becoming attached to someone who might not be suitable."

"Which is why you also turned down every suitable girl - or willing subordinate offering no-strings attention - who ever crossed your path." Genji's laughter was beginning to calm, but Hanzo sensed this was something he was going to be teased about for years to come.

At least Jesse had lost the worst edge of his hostility, and looked more baffled than angry. When he saw Hanzo watching him, the man grimaced and broke eye contact, hooking his thumbs over his belt. "Ain't none of my business," the cowboy muttered, but even he didn't seem convinced by his protest.

Still chuckling, Genji shook his head. "Whatever else you may believe of him, or us," he said to McCree, "I assure you that any, er, personal exchanges between you had nothing to do with our plan. If it had been me, yes, I might have used that as a tactic... though perhaps not quite to this extent. Hanzo... well, my brother is not a people person, to put it mildly."

"Genji," Hanzo snapped, exasperated and annoyed by the continued interference. "Enough."

"Yep, I think that's about enough of that topic," Jesse agreed - but there was a tug at the corner of his lips that might have been a hesitant smile, and a kind of reluctant sympathy in his eyes when he looked at Hanzo.

It was Hanzo's turn to look away, unable to meet the other man's gaze. He tried to convince himself that it didn't matter what Jesse's - _McCree's_ \- opinion of him was. For one thing, as big as Overwatch was, there was every chance that Hanzo and McCree would never encounter each other again when this was all over. And even if they did, it seemed unlikely that McCree would ever forgive Hanzo enough for there to even be friendship between them, let alone anything more.

Hanzo was _not_ disappointed by that thought. He'd known from the beginning that this was a one-time chance, even if he hadn't anticipated how badly McCree would react to being 'used' in that way. There was not and could never be anything more.

Maybe eventually, it would stop making his heart stutter every time he told himself that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the relatively long break, guys. My beta was behind, and when she finally got to chapter 7 her comments meant I'd gone seriously sideways somewhere, and I had to rewrite the ending. I think I'm back on track. Hope you enjoy!

Hanzo did not believe in the Christian notions of Heaven and Hell, but he thought perhaps if Hell did exist, it might look something like his current situation. Blackwatch hadn't actually locked them in a cell pending investigation, but it was a near thing. He and Genji were crammed into a small room together, effectively under house arrest, permitted to leave only for brief meals and a single two hour workout session daily. 

They were given limited access to the base's electronic library and entertainment selections, but there was only so much reading and movie-watching they could do. The only real break from the monotony was when Reyes - who it turned out was indeed the Commander of all of Blackwatch - would pull them into interrogation sessions, either separately or together.

Hanzo understood that the organization had every reason not to trust them, but he wished they had closed him and Genji into _separate_ tiny spaces. Then he'd have been able to meditate in peace, without Genji's constant pacing and complaining. Of course, he'd also have fretted himself to pieces over whether Genji was being treated well while out of Hanzo's sight, but that might have been preferable to this.

At least when they were awake, Genji's tendency to be annoying distracted Hanzo from thoughts he shouldn't be having. Like wondering whether McCree was still at this base, or if he'd been sent elsewhere. Wondering if the man thought of Hanzo at all, or cared in any way what became of the brothers.

Wondering if McCree dreamed of Hanzo the way Hanzo dreamed of him, of the tangle of sweat-slicked limbs and hard muscled flesh, of a touch that was more than Hanzo had ever experienced but not nearly enough to satisfy him. Every night, Hanzo experienced McCree's sensual caress again in his sleep, and every morning he woke aching with longing. Genji never said a word about it, but Hanzo was mortifyingly certain that his brother was well aware of what was going on in Hanzo's mind.

Both of their tempers were strained to the breaking point by the uncertainty of their fate and the boredom of inactivity. Now that they were no longer forced to cooperate to ensure their survival, old habits of interaction crept in, and they were snarling at each other before the first full day passed. Hanzo feared it was only a matter of time before the pressure blew, and the resulting explosion would not be pretty.

So when Genji took the opportunity after a meal to saunter over to one of their 'not a guard, really, I just happen to be hanging out wherever you guys are' people, then returned with a sly grin on his face, Hanzo was immediately wary. He side-eyed his brother as they entered their room, and as soon as the door was closed, Hanzo demanded, "What are you up to?"

"Me?" Genji gave him a positively angelic look, the same one he'd used to talk his way out of trouble with their father. "Not a thing. Why would you ask?"

"Because I am not a fool, and I recognize that expression," Hanzo retorted. "Both the smirk from a moment ago, and the attempt to appear innocent now. I understand your frustration, but we must be patient. If you go sneaking out..."

Interrupting with an aggravated noise, Genji planted his hands on his hips and glared at Hanzo. "I know you think I'm stupid, but give me _some_ credit, anija. Do you really believe I'd jeopardize everything, put both our lives at risk, to... what, go bar-hopping?"

"It _is_ your preferred method of dealing with boredom," Hanzo said, struggling not to growl. The last thing they needed was to get into a real argument. "Good sense never stopped you from sneaking away from your bodyguards and going out of the castle before."

"That was entirely different, and if you think I don't know that, you really _do_ believe I'm an idiot." Genji's glare intensified, and his voice was tight, as if he was fighting the urge to escalate as well. "Here I thought you were finally coming to understand me, and see me as a person instead of a waste of space."

"Do not put words in my mouth," Hanzo protested, scowling right back. "I have never said that I thought of you as such, and certainly did not say it now."

"You don't have to say it. It's written all over that sour, disdainful expression that always seems to be the only way you look at me." Genji's fists clenched, and for a moment Hanzo thought his brother was truly going to throw a punch. 

Then the younger man blew out a harsh breath and reached up to scrub a hand through his spiky hair instead, tugging at the locks as if to distract himself with the small pain. "Damn it. We're not doing this. We've come too far to return to snapping at each other's throats like feral dogs."

Shame washed through Hanzo, and he knew his brother was right. They must not let themselves fall back into bad habits of behaviour. "I fear, given much more of this enforced idle closeness, growling at each other is an inevitability."

"Which is exactly why I asked our not-guard for a favour," Genji replied. "We need something else to... aha." His face lit up at a knock on the door. "Here we go." He opened the door enough to poke his head out, accepted something from whoever was out of sight on the other side, and waved them off with a quick thanks. Tearing open the package, he shoved something about the size of an old-fashioned bound book at Hanzo.

Taking it, Hanzo examined the plastic object and recognized it as some kind of handheld gaming device. "Ah. I should have known." He snorted, but relaxed. "I suppose it will keep you occupied, at least." Better than the movies had, and certainly better than reading. Genji always needed to be _doing_ something, and video games were at least interactive.

"It will keep _us_ occupied," Genji replied, pulling a second device from the box. "C'mon, it's not like you have anything better to do, either. We can take out our boredom and frustration by cutting each other's virtual heads off, instead of the real ones."

Hanzo frowned. "I have no interest in such frivolous things," he protested.

Genji flopped down onto the narrow bed he'd claimed as his own. "Bullshit. You didn't spring into being as a fully formed old man, Hanzo. We used to play Pokemon together all the time, remember?"

"I was ten!" Hanzo's cheeks warmed, even as his heart clenched at the nearly-forgotten memory. Yes, they had spent hours together, laughing and enjoying themselves as they raced through the streets of Hanamura, chasing rare Pokemon and trying to beat each other to catch the best one.

"And now you're twenty, not seventy," Genji replied, rolling his eyes. "You're supposed to be exploring the options for what you want out of life now that the Shimada-gumi aren't the center of your existence, but I haven't seen you doing much. Relax. Have fun like a normal person. I promise I'll even go easy on you, since you're not used to playing any more."

"You will do no such thing," Hanzo snapped, his scowl returning. "I will defeat you regardless." Genji only laughed, delighted, and Hanzo realized he'd fallen right into his brother's trap, essentially agreeing to play. Sighing, he admitted defeat. Genji was right, it wasn't as if he had anything better to do. "Very well. Show me your game."

The first half hour or so was unbearably frustrating, as Hanzo struggled to learn how the game worked and memorize the various button combinations that caused his on-screen character to do different things. He was determined to rise to the challenge, so he forced himself to continue long after the point when he'd normally have declared it a waste of his valuable time. After all, it wasn't as if his time _had_ any value, these days.

Then he started to get the hang of it, beating Genji in a round, though he suspected his brother had indeed gone easy on him. As they progressed, Hanzo became engrossed in the strategy of it, and his determination to legitimately beat Genji soared. Before he quite knew what was happening, he was completely absorbed, trading insults and invective back and forth with his brother, laughing hard enough to startle himself.

It felt good to play with his brother again, the most fun Hanzo could remember having in years. For the first time in far too long, he felt the weight of responsibility slide from his shoulders, and dared to 'act his age'. It was the most relaxed and carefree he'd been since... ever.

So of course, that was when a brisk knock on the door interrupted them, followed almost immediately by Commander Reyes poking his head in. Hanzo jumped to his feet, both a sign of respect and unwillingness to be at a physical disadvantage against a man who was not yet an ally. Foolishly, he shoved the game unit behind his back, as if he could hide the evidence of his childish behaviour. "Commander. To what do we owe the honour?"

Genji showed no signs of repentance or shame, rising slowly and not bothering to set the game aside. His smile had a sharp edge to it. "You know, where we come from, it's usually considered polite to wait to be invited in, after knocking."

"Genji." Hanzo used his sternest tone. "We are not guests. He has every right to intrude upon us." Not that Hanzo was any happier about it, but he bowed to the inevitability. Overwatch doubtless had the room thoroughly bugged, both sound and video, monitoring the brothers constantly. It was what Hanzo would do, if the situation was reversed. Waiting to see if they gave themselves away as spies.

Come to think of it, that might well be why they'd been shuffled off to a corner and mostly left to themselves, to see if they would discuss their plans out of sheer boredom.

"Hate to interrupt the gaming session," Reyes said, a glint of genuine amusement in his eyes. "If it's not too inconvenient, I want you both down in the VR range. Let's see these hotshot ninja skills, or whatever."

Hanzo's heart leapt in his chest. Overwatch must be seriously considering granting their request to join, if they were bothering to put the brothers through their paces. "You accept that we are who we say we are, then?"

Reyes gave them an inscrutable look. "Jury's still out, but if you're not even all you're cracked up to be, then there's no point investigating any farther."

Hanzo and Genji exchanged a look, both of them eager to get out of this bloody room and stretch their wings properly. Hanzo nodded to Reyes. "We'll need our equipment. Armour and weapons - especially the weapons, if you want to see what we are truly capable of. Practice blades will not suffice." 

Overwatch had, quite understandably, removed their weapons from them. Hanzo had been trying very hard not to snarl about having his ancestral blade out of his control. Genji was better at hiding his frustration, but Hanzo knew his brother was no less annoyed that strangers were doubtless poking at the blades, studying them.

"I figured as much," Reyes agreed. "Everything will be waiting for you at the range. Ready to go? Or do you need to save your game first?" There was a twinkle in his eye as he teased them, and Hanzo tried not to feel like an utter failure for the fact that there was anything to be teased about in the first place.

"We're good," Genji answered, dropping his game unit on the bed. "Let's go, already!"

Normally Hanzo would have chided Genji for impatience, but in this case, he couldn't truly blame his brother. They'd been locked away in here for what felt like weeks, though in truth it had been less than one. Convincing Overwatch they were worth protecting was the next step in getting them out of this damnable room. 

Reyes led them to an area of the base they hadn't been to before, and left them in a locker room that was empty save for the equipment and weapons the brothers had arrived at the base with. Hanzo changed into work gear, including his armour and climbing claws, then slid his weapons into place one by one. 

The katana came last, settled into its proper place at his hip, arranged to allow for an iaido fast draw. He used his long blade more often than Genji, whose odachi hung lengthwise along his spine, with only the short wakizashi blade set sideways at his waist for quick use.

When they stepped out into the practice range, Hanzo was surprised to see an empty room with padded walls. It was large enough for extensive maneuvers, and would serve well for kata or sparring, but surely the commanders wanted to see Hanzo and Genji do more than beat at each other in a practice match. He'd expected targets, perhaps bots of some kind, but there wasn't so much as a paper bullseye pinned to the wall.

Glancing up, he saw the room was at least two stories high, and a long window spanned the upper half of one wall. An observation room. Standing at the window were Reyes, a blond man Hanzo recognized from photographs as Commander Morrison himself... and Jesse McCree, with his ridiculous cowboy hat tugged low over his face and a cigar clamped between his teeth.

The heat that shot through Hanzo at the sight of his erstwhile lover was shocking. His heart pounded in double time, thumping his ribs so hard it hurt. The reaction was ridiculous. He and McCree had shared only a few brief moments, and those had been tainted in the aftermath. There was no reason for his body to respond with eager anticipation, as if there remained any possibility for further contact. 

Nobody had ever drawn such a visceral response from Hanzo before. It was more than mere animal lust, more than a chemical reaction caused by pheromones; it was the way Jesse had looked at him, as if he saw all the way through Hanzo to his soul, and found that soul very attractive indeed. In those brief moments, Jesse hadn't wanted anything from the kumicho of the Shimada-gumi, hadn't intended to use Hanzo for his own gain. He had only seen a man, whom he'd wished to bring pleasure to, and find pleasure himself in the act. 

Unfortunately, that look existed nowhere but in Hanzo's memory. McCree's current expression as he looked down on the brothers was neutral, bordering on cold. There wasn't even any sign of the passionate anger he'd felt when Hanzo revealed his betrayal. The very lack of reaction, especially in comparison to the way Hanzo's body heated at the mere sight of him, stole the breath from Hanzo's lungs.

A warm, solid hand clasped Hanzo's shoulder, anchoring him and giving him the lifeline he needed to tear himself away from staring at McCree. Hanzo turned to see Genji standing next to him with a sympathetic expression. 

"Head held high, anija," the younger man murmured. "We are Shimada. Now we will show them exactly what that means." _'And he will regret turning you away,'_ hung unspoken in his brother's tone.

Abashed that he required the encouragement, Hanzo nodded and straightened his shoulders. Genji was correct. A Shimada did not pant after people like shameless dogs in heat. If McCree could not understand that Hanzo had intended no insult, that was his loss.

No matter how much it felt like Hanzo was the one losing out. 

"We're ready when you are," Hanzo called up to the viewing room, assuming they had some way to hear into the training room. "Let us demonstrate our worth."

Bouncing on his toes, Genji cast a nearly manic grin at their observers. "And boy, are you going to be surprised."


	8. Chapter 8

Jesse had no part in the round of intensive interviews (i.e. interrogations) the Shimada brothers were no doubt being put through. But, he did have some idea of what was likely going down, having gone through the process himself not so long ago. 

Of course, in Jesse's case Overwatch had approached him, not the other way around, so there wasn't the added suspicion of him being an enemy spy trying to gain access. But there had been an awful lot of questions and paperwork and scrutiny before Morrison approved Reyes' decision to bring a scruffy, uneducated, snarling hellcat of a delinquent into Blackwatch.

It had worked out well for Jesse, and he suspected that might smooth the way a tad for the brothers. If they were half as good as they claimed to be, Reyes and Morrison would be fools to turn them away, regardless of potential repercussions from their criminal family. But it still wasn't going to be easy for them to jump the queue of experienced military personnel who were lined up by the hundreds to join Overwatch's elite ranks.

Jesse told himself over and over that he didn't care how it came out, but he knew he was lying right from the start. The weird thing was that he couldn't even decide what he wanted the outcome to be. 

If Hanzo had been telling the truth, Jesse would feel guilty for treating the guy so badly because of his own paranoia. If Hanzo had been lying, Jesse would feel like an idiot for being taken in and seduced by an enemy agent. And as a bonus, either way he got to feel like he'd screwed up by having his cover broken, even though Reyes assured him that Blackwatch determined the breach hadn't happened on Jesse's end.

The last thing he'd expected was for Reyes to pull him into the process. So when he got a mysterious text from his commander to report to the practice range viewing room, he was surprised to see both Hanzo and Genji in the range below. 

They were dressed in what might have passed as workout clothes, if they were being cast for a B-grade samurai movie. Both carried their swords, Hanzo had his bow and arrows, and they had strange metal claws strapped onto their boots that looked like bird feet.

The traditional clothes suited Hanzo in a way that the Western suit and tie hadn't. Or maybe it was how he carried himself, loose and easy instead of stiff and formal. His hair was pulled up into a short tail at the crown of his head, holding it out of his eyes, and the strong line of his jaw was clearly visible. He frowned as he spoke to Genji, who bounced on his toes with an impatient expression.

Reyes and Commander Morrison were in the viewing room as well, and Reyes turned to greet Jesse. "Hey. Brought you in because I want your opinion on what these two can do, and how well they might potentially fit with our team."

"Our team?" Jesse stared at him, dismayed. He'd assumed that even if Hanzo and Genji were accepted into Blackwatch, it was unlikely Jesse would cross paths with them again any time soon. Blackwatch had several bases and many, many teams. Jesse and Reyes had been working mostly alone together since Jesse had first been recruited.

But Reyes was dealing with more and more administrative crap as Blackwatch continued to expand, and didn't get out in the field nearly as much as he wanted to. He'd been talking about reluctantly assigning Jesse to another team, so that Jesse wasn't sitting around cooling his heels so much. Expanding their team to be useful even without Reyes would be a much better option, at least for Jesse, who didn't particularly want to be reporting to anybody other than Reyes directly. Respecting authority wasn't really Jesse's strong suit.

"Their story checks out," Reyes said. "As far as we can tell, anyway. The whole Asian underground is buzzing with rumours about the Shimada Yakuza frantically searching for them, offering big rewards for information about two missing members. Right now the family seems to be assuming the brothers were kidnapped, but that'll change quick enough.”

"Whether or not their skills are suitable is another question," Morrison added. "Not to mention whether they're capable of working with a team, and following our rules. The limits on acceptable behaviour will be much stricter than what they're used to, I'm sure." He flashed a smile at McCree, small but genuine. "Gabriel does seem to have good instincts about recruiting special operatives, so we're giving them a chance."

"We could really use somebody with recon and stealth expertise," Reyes finished, crossing his arms. "Not sure I believe that arrows and swords are gonna cut it in our world, though. No pun intended."

"Yeah, I'm kinda wondering about that part, myself," Jesse agreed. He moved up to join the two officers at the window, fingertips tingling with nerves and anticipation. Should he voice his doubts about working with Hanzo in a professional relationship, after what had happened between them? Reyes knew they'd slept together, so he must be accounting for that. Or was that the subtle question behind him inviting Jesse to view this display of skill?

"Only one way to find out." Morrison leaned forward and hit the button that would activate the mic. "You two ready?"

"We're waiting on you," Genji called back, grinning with a cheeky expression that probably wouldn't have looked out of place on Jesse. Hanzo grimaced, and thumped a fist into his brother's ribs in reprimand, but Genji ignored the blow.

"You'll be facing a VR obstacle course," Reyes said into the mic. "There will be target droids marked as enemy and friendly units, and both will be firing. Friendly fire is possible, and you won't impress us by killing a bunch of your allied units. Our AI Athena will mark anywhere you've been 'injured', and you should adapt accordingly. This is a fully 3D environment, and enemies can come from anywhere. There will be some you can't reach."

"That's what you think," Genji said, and bounced again.

"Let them believe what they will," Hanzo replied, standing calm and still in sharp contrast to his brother. "They will not understand until they see for themselves."

Jesse raised an eyebrow, wondering if this was arrogance speaking, or if they really were capable of the kind of crazy stunts ninjas in the movies always pulled. Only one way to find out, and it was about to happen.

"On my mark," Morrison declared. "Three… two… mark."

Hard light buildings and objects sprang into being in the training room, creating a twisting labyrinth much like the back streets of many older European cities. A flood of training bots poured from slots in the walls. Some had blue paint to indicate they were friendly units, but the vast majority were marked with enemy red.

Jesse couldn't hold back a low whistle. That was a lot of targets, and a much more complicated setup than any program he'd ever run. "They won't last thirty seconds in there," he murmured.

Reyes shrugged. "If we don’t make it too difficult to complete successfully, we won’t find out where their limits are. Or how they react to defeat, for that matter. We need to stress them, so they stop being on their best behaviour to try to convince us to hire them.”

The two ninja were standing in the middle of the room, back to back, unmoving as the enemy horde descended on them. Genji had lost that edge of manic energy, going focused and tense. And Hanzo…

Jesse's breath caught as he saw the fierce, utterly determined look in Hanzo's eyes. This was a man who intended to utterly crush any and all opposition, and was confident in his ability to do so. If that certainty was arrogance, then damn, arrogance looked good on him.

Then at some unspoken signal, the brothers exploded into action, and Jesse realized the arrogance was one hundred percent deserved.

They moved so fast their motions were a blur, and enemies fell before them in waves. When they split up, their movements remained coordinated, fighting as a unit rather than two individuals even when they couldn't see each other. They must be using comms that Jesse couldn't hear, but he'd seen plenty of battle-hardened veteran teams who didn't coordinate that well.

The truly incredible thing was that they were hardly even using their swords. Genji was mostly using those small throwing stars, flinging them with deadly accuracy, sometimes hitting two or three bots who weren't even close to each other. When he did draw his blade, it was the short sword hung sideways at his back, and he fucking deflected bullets with it, often straight back at the shooter.

Hanzo had his blade out more often, but it was a lightning fast unsheath-slice-sheath motion that cut enemies before him in half. Sometimes he would lunge past one of the bots, and Jesse could hardly even see him pull the blade, but the bot would fall to pieces in his wake. Mostly, however, he had his bow up and was firing arrow after arrow after arrow, each one with wicked accuracy.

The hail of arrows picked off bots one by one, including some fast-moving targets that were at a distance even Jesse would struggle to hit a pinpoint shot at. Then he threw himself at a wall and scrambled straight up it, as if he could ignore the laws of gravity as easily as he ignored the laws of man when it suited him. Hanzo smiled as he fired down on the bots from above, the smirk of a warrior who was fighting with no holds barred, nothing held back, and enjoying himself in the process.

Not a single point of light indicated a wound on either of the brothers. Some of their shots did go astray, but none of the friendly units had been damaged by them. There were less than half the enemy units remaining. Jesse couldn't take his eyes off Hanzo, the rhythmic flow of the man's motions as he drew and shot and drew again, so fast that he surely couldn't be taking the time to aim. People had accused Jesse of the same thing, and he knew how much training went into pulling off that kind of instinctive aim, where your body knew exactly when to pull the trigger - or loose the shot - without needing conscious calculation from the brain.

Just when it looked like the brothers would emerge triumphant without even breaking a sweat, there was a wailing siren, and a new wave of enemies poured into the room. Most of the friendly units were cut down, and there were so many enemies that they would surely overwhelm the brothers though sheer numbers.

Jesse saw Hanzo glance across the room to where Genji was fighting on the other side, and nod. Drawing the bow back extra far, Hanzo held the arrow for a moment, appearing to aim for the first time. Blue energy surged around him, rising from the tattoo on his arm and flaring so bright Jesse had to squint into it. Hanzo shouted as he loosed the arrow, an incomprehensible string of syllables that rang with power and menace. "Ryuu ga waga teki wo kurau!”

And two goddamn _dragons_ shot out of his bow, twining around each other as they barrelled across the training room, vaporizing every enemy unit they encountered - and leaving the few remaining friendly units completely untouched.

Jesse gawked, dumbfounded. Nor was he alone in his reaction; Reyes' jaw dropped, and Morrison grunted in shock. Jesse had never seen or even heard of a weapon anything like this.

Then Genji shouted a similar warcry from the other side of the room. "Ryuujin no ken wo kurae!" Bright green light filled the air around him. His was a dragon too, but unlike Hanzo's it stayed with him, fanged head outstretched along the length of the oversized sword he'd finally drawn from the sheath at his back. He became a dancing whirlwind of death, and the enemies who'd fled the blast of Hanzo's dragons found themselves firmly caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place.

Between the two of them, the entire remaining enemy force was decimated in seconds. They met in the center where they'd started, once again back to back, both of them now holding their long blades as they waited to see if any further threats would present themselves. Utter silence reigned in the training room, as if even the friendly bots were too stunned to move.

"Well." Jesse heard his own voice break the silence, but the words didn’t check with his brain before they left his mouth. "Guess that answers that question. They'll do just fine with old-fashioned weapons."

"No shit." Reyes sounded torn between awe and disbelief. Jesse understood the feelings. “So much for seeing how they handle a defeat. I don’t think we have enough bots in the whole base.”

“I’m convinced.” Morrison’s tone was very dry, but Jesse could hear the hint of awe lurking beneath. A body would have to be insane not to be awed by what they’d just seen. “They’re worth the effort of protecting them from their family. Frankly, the Shimada Group doesn’t have all that much to throw at us.”

“Dibs,” Reyes immediately called. Morrison rolled his eyes, and Reyes grinned back at him. “What? Just so we’re clear.”

“Right. Because all of the ‘I saw them first’ and ‘ninjas belong in Blackwatch’ hints weren’t obvious enough.” Morrison snorted, but Jesse saw his lips twitching with the effort not to laugh. “Yeah, yeah, they’re all yours, and you’re welcome to the headaches. I doubt they’re used to buckling down under someone’s command.”

“Worth it.” Reyes turned to Jesse, and lost the teasing expression. “Can you work with him and not have problems?"

Jesse cast an uncomfortable look at Morrison, but the Commander was seemingly absorbed in watching Hanzo and Genji as the brothers stretched out. Undoubtedly Morrison was listening to every word, but the fact that he was pretending not to meant there would be no official repercussions for anything Jesse said now.

His knee-jerk instinct was to say 'hell, no!' and never have to deal with Hanzo again. As soon as he swallowed that reaction, a second impulse to say 'fuck, yes!' hit him, as he thought about how powerful those dragons would be on their side. He fought that one back, too, and tried to think about the whole thing objectively.

Right. Like 'objective' even existed in the same universe, where he and Hanzo were concerned. Jesse was still stung by the betrayal, though he accepted now that Hanzo hadn't meant it to be one. Genji's laughter sealed the deal on that one - the younger Shimada's shocked disbelief that Jesse would assume Hanzo had deliberately seduced him wasn't faked.

Their story checked out. It hadn't been made up to appeal to Jesse, or strike a chord with his personal background. The brothers really had fled a criminal empire because they wanted to do something better and meaningful with their lives. They were tailor-made for Blackwatch, and with that level of power, Reyes would be a fool to shuffle them off to a team full of grunts. Also, Jesse had a feeling that neither of the ninja were going to deal well with authority, unless they personally respected that leader. Which meant, like Jesse himself, Reyes was probably the only one who could put a leash on them.

And damn, but Jesse really did want to see those dragon weapons in action when it was the real thing.

"I'll handle it," he promised Reyes, tugging the brim of his hat low. Maybe, if he shaded his eyes enough, Reyes wouldn't see how hard it had been for Jesse to reach this decision. "We'll make it work. You'd be crazy to put them anywhere but on our team."

Reyes eyed him for a long moment, then nodded. "All right. But Jesse, if it does become a problem, I want to know about it immediately. You hear me?"

"I hear you." Whether or not Jesse would obey was another question. He wasn't one to go whining to the teacher when the schoolyard bully called him names. If things were awkward between him and Hanzo, they'd just have to sort it out between them. Because like hell was Jesse jeopardizing his place on the team.

And like hell would he deny the brothers the same kind of second chance that Blackwatch had given Jesse.

Trying not to slink out like he was in trouble, Jesse headed for the hallway. Lost in his thoughts, it didn’t even occur to him that Hanzo and Genji would be heading back to their quarters as well, until he turned a corner and found himself face to face with them.

If they’d broken a sweat in that fight, it didn’t show. Genji was fidgeting again, flipping shuriken in and out of the forearm sheath, but his body language was relaxed and happy. He clearly knew they’d done well, and wasn’t worried about the outcome. 

In contrast, Hanzo was tense, but Jesse was willing to bet Hanzo was _always_ tense. He seemed like the type to fret over every variable and possible failure, and he certainly wouldn’t be counting any unhatched chickens.

Hanzo spotted Jesse first, and went even stiffer, like someone had jammed an iron rod down his spine. “McCree. It is good to see you well.”

The icy formality of the greeting scraped over Jesse’s nerves like sandpaper over a burn. It felt unfriendly, even dismissive. Jesse chewed the end of his cigar as he debated how to answer. Probably best to be polite in return, keep things professional. “Boys. That was an impressive show, back there.”

“Now you know why we were so sure Overwatch would want us.” There was surprisingly little brag in Genji’s tone, making it a simple statement of fact. Then he ruined it with a smirking grin. “Imagine what we can do when we’re being serious.”

“Genji.” The way Hanzo said his brother’s name held a wealth of emotions, many of which Jesse couldn’t read. It was the sort of silent communication that only happened between family or long-time partners, with the weight of decades of history behind it.

“Whatever.” Genji rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, unimpressed with his brother’s unspoken scolding. 

Hanzo ignored him, turning to Jesse with a carefully neutral expression. If he felt any lingering heat or wistful regret about their interrupted assignation, there was no sign of it in his eyes. “I hope it has become clear that I truly meant no offense with my… indiscretion that night.”

Fighting the urge to shift from foot to foot like a naughty kid, Jesse nodded. “Yeah, I get it. Water under the bridge, and all that.”

Both of them blinked. “What do bridges have to do with it?” Genji asked, tilting his head.

“Ah, sorry.” Jesse scratched at his cheek, embarrassed even though it certainly wasn’t his fault that they didn’t understand common English idioms. “It’s in the past, is what I meant. All’s well that ends well, and such.”

“Indeed.” Hanzo dipped his head in a brief bow. “I remain grateful to you for giving us a chance, despite my blunder.”

Genji was looking between them, his eyes narrowing. Though he’d started out with a friendly smile and open body language, now he closed off subtly. Jesse was very good at reading people, and he could tell Genji had just picked a side, and that side was his brother’s. “I’m sure we’ll see you around at some point, McCree?”

“Sooner than you think.” Jesse took a drag on his cigar. “Reyes means for us to be working together. He ain’t wrong - you two would be wasted on a regular team.”

Was it his imagination, or did Hanzo look momentarily dismayed? What, had he hoped to be able to wash his hands of Jesse and never think of it again? Or, to be fair, maybe he’d just hoped to avoid continued awkwardness.

“Then I look forward to our professional association,” was all Hanzo said. He did the little nod-bow again. “If you will excuse us. We should clean up and get out of these clothes.”

“Sure thing, I won’t keep you.” It was an effort not to grind his teeth. ‘Professional association’? Was that Hanzo’s way of making it clear that he wanted nothing more, warning Jesse off any potential attempt to rekindle things between them?

Damn, it was going to be even harder than Jesse had thought to keep his cool around Hanzo. He was second-guessing everything, and couldn’t seem to stop. He didn’t know the guy well enough to be sure what Hanzo meant by his comments.

They’d just have to take it one day at a time, Jesse supposed. Hopefully, they’d come out the other side of it friends, or at least with a healthy respect for each other as teammates. Otherwise, the next months would be utter hell.


	9. Chapter 9

Working with Hanzo turned out to be the most painfully civil relationship that Jesse had ever engaged in. Hanzo avoided talking to him when possible, and continued to be excruciatingly polite and formal when they were forced to interact. After two weeks of training together, Jesse honestly wasn't sure if the politeness was genuine or some sort of passive-aggressive put-down, but he was increasingly certain it was the latter.

And it pissed Jesse the hell off.

Why did Hanzo think he had reason to be angry with Jesse? What, because Jesse didn't believe his story at first? Because Jesse made him submit as a prisoner for a whole two hours? Because Jesse dared to 'dominate' him and Hanzo decided he was embarrassed?

But Jesse had promised Reyes that he could work with Hanzo, and the last thing Jesse ever wanted to do was disappoint his commander. So he bit his tongue and smiled, matching Hanzo's stiff politeness with chilly manners of his own, and both of them did their best to have nothing to do with each other in their off hours.

Only when he was alone in the darkness of his quarters did Jesse's icy regard for the other man thaw, replaced by heated dreams that he couldn't control or dismiss. Their brief, unfinished night of passion had left a deep impression on Jesse, and no matter how annoyed he was with Hanzo, he couldn't deny the other man remained smoking hot.

If they'd met in a different way… if Hanzo had been upfront with Jesse from the start, or better yet, had approached a different agent and Jesse hadn't met him until he was added to the team… hell yes, Jesse would hit that, and then some. 

Might have flirted with Genji a bit while he was at it, but the younger Shimada was no challenge. He was as outgoing as Jesse himself, and judging by the number of agents already sighing over the ninja, was going to end up very popular.

No, it was Hanzo's reserved nature that drew Jesse like the proverbial moth to a flame, just as it had in the sex club. He still wanted to crack that prim shell and find the passion buried beneath. Too bad there was no fucking way that was ever going to happen again.

It was also too bad that the awkward situation with Hanzo meant Jesse felt equally awkward around Genji. Though the younger man had been friendly toward him since being accepted into Blackwatch, a quiet darkness lurked in his eyes and hid behind his smile. There was a definite feeling of solidarity between the brothers, as Genji sided with Hanzo in this silent, undeclared stand-off.

So when Genji slung himself into the seat next to Jesse at the bar nearest to the base one night, Jesse was understandably surprised. This gin joint was a bit of an unofficial Blackwatch hangout, since most of the clientele were agents from the base blowing off steam, but he hadn't seen Genji in here before. There were plenty of open seats - and more than one person sending inviting looks toward Genji. There was no reason the man needed to sit next to Jesse.

"McCree," Genji greeted him with an easy smile. "Buy you a drink?"

"Why, you buttering me up for something?" Jesse wasn't sure what the hell was going on, so he couldn't help but be wary.

Genji chuckled. "It's less buttering you up, and more bribing you to stay and talk to me. What're you drinking?"

"Whiskey." Jesse eyed him. "If you wanna talk, it ain't like I'm gonna refuse. We're teammates, you don't gotta bribe me."

"Oh yeah?" Genji gave him a challenging look. "Even if the topic is my brother?"

While Jesse absorbed that - and tried to decide if he did indeed want to make an excuse and duck out of the coming lecture or scolding or whatever - Genji signalled the bartender and ordered two whiskeys. Jesse picked up the one he already had going and finished it off, using it as a delaying tactic to let himself think.

He still hadn't come to any decisions by the time the new drinks arrived. Genji picked one up and sipped, then made an appreciative noise. "Not bad. I prefer sake, but something tells me the good stuff is going to be harder to come by this far from Japan. This will do just fine."

"Maybe I'll have to try yours next time," Jesse said, mouth on auto-pilot. Then he grimaced. Was there going to be a next time? If they'd met under those hypothetical other circumstances, Jesse had the feeling he and Genji could have become good friends. The sort that would definitely go out and hit the bars together. But as things stood, he wasn't sure that was even possible.

"I'll treat you to that one as well,” Genji replied. “Least I can do, since my brother is causing problems for you."

Jesse blinked. "Come again? I thought you were both mad at me."

"Not me, or at least not anymore." Genji laughed, eyes sparkling. "I mean, I was at first, when I thought you were being a dick to Hanzo. Then I realized what was actually going on, and decided I'd better come talk to you."

"Really? Glad one of us has figured it out, then." Jesse tried not to sound as sour about that as he felt. Now he was confused on top of being annoyed about the whole thing. He picked up the new glass of whiskey and sipped, savouring the burn as it went down, trying to focus on that and not his jumbled feelings. “When the hell was _I_ a dick to Hanzo?”

"Listen." Genji dropped into a more somber mood, giving Jesse a serious look. "The thing you have to understand about my brother is that he's an antisocial idiot with absolutely no people skills. At all."

"Here, now," Jesse protested, feeling perversely like he needed to defend the man. "That's a bit harsh, ain't it?"

"Not really." Genji propped his elbows on the bar, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Though I admit I may not be the most unbiased observer, given we literally couldn't be in a room together without fighting until three weeks ago. I'm still getting used to this whole thing where I'm supposed to like him. And he's not always making it easy."

Once again Jesse felt like he was lost at sea. "You two didn't get along?" They hardly seemed to leave each other's side, and with the way Hanzo had described fleeing their family to protect his little brother, Jesse got the impression that the two of them were close.

Genji snorted. "Saying we 'didn't get along' is putting it mildly. I'm reasonably certain if we'd been left to our own devices, we'd have ended up killing each other sooner or later. But the elders made a mistake, and one good thing I will say about Hanzo is that he doesn't fuck around when it comes to his honour.”

He paused, but it was more like he was gathering his thoughts - or maybe his composure. Jesse waited, curious as anything, not wanting to interrupt for fear he’d sidetrack the younger man. 

“Hanzo was willing to put himself in a horrible position to protect me,” Genji finally said, and his voice had a touch of gruffness to it. “I talked him out of staying behind to be a sacrifice, but that means he also gave up all of the power and wealth that would have been his as kumicho of the Shimada-gumi. He is trying to be a better brother, and so am I, now that we're at least on the same side. But that doesn't change the fact that he's an idiot when it comes to people."

"Seemed like he managed just fine when he tracked me down on the mission," Jesse muttered, still put out about how easily he'd been duped that night.

"No, see, that's exactly where you started going wrong." Genji smirked at him. "I was on comms with Hanzo until the two of you got back to your hotel, talking him through as much as I could. I should have been the one to approach you, but I was dead tired and you had us on a tight timeline. Hanzo…"

Genji stopped again, appearing to struggle for words. "Until now, he's only had two methods of interacting with people. Either they're his subordinates, in which case he gives orders and expects them to be obeyed without question. Or they're his acknowledged superiors, in which case he does what he's told to the very best of his ability. Hanzo dedicated his entire life to the clan, and to what was expected of him. Now he's replaced that with doing anything and everything Blackwatch demands. I honestly don't think he even knows how to figure out what _he_ wants to do."

"Surely he must've had a social life of some kind," Jesse objected. "Everybody has friends. He went to school, didn't he?"

Genji shook his head. "In Hanamura, the Shimada-gumi ruled the city. Everyone knew who we were, and everyone wanted to be our 'friend'. We were taught young not to trust anyone, not to ever let people get close. I learned to fake it, to be social and charming and get what I wanted without ever promising anything in return. Hanzo withdrew, and spent all his time studying with our father. The only one close enough to his social standing to genuinely be his friend would have been me, and I already told you how well that worked."

"Sounds like a lonely way to live, for both of you." Not that Jesse could really throw any stones. For all that he was friendly, he did have an ingrained wariness of others, thanks to all his time living on the shady side of society. He had lots of friends in Overwatch, but none of them were close.

"I suppose it was." Genji shrugged. "Neither of us had ever known anything different. This place, the culture of Overwatch, is foreign to us. We're both still adjusting, but I think it's been harder on Hanzo. Especially when it comes to you." 

He cast a sly, sideways look at Jesse, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "He's not being stiff and formal because he's mad. Remember how I said I thought he was ace? Hanzo has never shown any interest in flirting or dating or sex. Not until you swept him off his feet. Now he's embarrassed and flustered, and he knows _you're_ mad at _him_ , so he literally doesn't know what to say."

Jesse pondered that, taking another slug of his whiskey as he thought. Genji certainly knew his brother better than Jesse did, so if the younger Shimada said that Hanzo was being formal out of embarrassment, it was probably true. Knowing that it _wasn't_ some kind of passive-aggressive dig helped Jesse set aside the building anger that plagued him in response, and think more rationally.

And from a rational standpoint, he had to admit that his knee-jerk reaction to finding out that Hanzo had an ulterior motive for approaching him was, perhaps, a little out of proportion. Hanzo _hadn't_ offered any threat, to Jesse or to Blackwatch. Nor had he attempted to gain any benefit from having slept with Jesse before admitting who he was. 

If Hanzo had truly gotten carried away by passion and lost track of his objective for a while, well, he wasn’t the only one. Yes, Jesse's mission had been completed, but he was still technically on the clock. He'd disobeyed a direct order to stay in his cover job until extraction in order to avoid attracting suspicion. Hanzo had at least provided him with an excuse to quit without making his bosses wonder why he'd suddenly disappeared, but that didn't change the fact that Jesse had made the decision purely because he'd wanted to get into Hanzo's pants.

Hell, when he thought about it, Hanzo _had_ tried a couple of times to tell him something, but Jesse had assumed the man was just shy and nervous, and kept pressing his suit. 

"Fuck." He muttered the word into his glass as he drained the last of the whiskey. He slammed the glass down harder than necessary, and grimaced at the sharp sound. "I'm the one who's been making this worse, haven't I?"

Genji didn't actually laugh, but the amusement was clear in his expression. "It's only partly your fault. Like I said, Hanzo's an ass too. You have to hold him by the hand about this sort of thing. If you're planning to apologize, though, you might want to take a few minutes and consider what you want the result of that apology to be."

Brow creasing, Jesse looked at him. "What I want it to be? I wanna make things less damn awkward between us, obviously."

"Sure," Genji nodded. "But less awkward how, exactly? Do you want to end up as cordial teammates? Friends? Or something more? Because you're going to have to take the lead, whatever the case."

"Something more?" Jesse shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the way his pants went tight at the thought. Whatever his personal feelings about the man might be, he couldn't deny that he regretted not getting the chance to fully explore the sexual possibilities between him and Hanzo. If that night had ended the way he'd expected it to, there would have been a lot more than just a couple of handjobs involved. "Pretty sure that ship sailed a while back, darlin'."

Genji grinned. "I wouldn't be so certain. You obviously haven't noticed the way Hanzo looks like he's bitten a lemon every time you call me darling - or the way he's put out when you don't use it on him."

Didn't he? Jesse reviewed what he could recall of his recent interactions with Hanzo, but his use of 'darling' and similar endearments was so ingrained, he didn't really notice whether he was doing it or not. Given the way he'd been icily polite in response to Hanzo's stiff manners, it was entirely possible that Jesse hadn't called him that. 

Genji put a hand on Jesse's arm, drawing his attention again. The ninja was solemn once more as he added, "Don't fuck with my brother's heart, McCree. I won't blame you if it breaks after you try and fail at a relationship, because nobody can guarantee how things turn out. But if you deliberately jerk him around, I'll be the one who comes calling for a reckoning."

As shovel talks went, it wasn't the most threatening Jesse had ever heard. At least, not until he looked into Genji's eyes and saw the darkness there, a reminder that the man was an assassin and a mobster. Genji would probably have no compunction about gifting a pair of cement shoes to anyone who hurt his brother. Or whatever the Yakuza equivalent was.

Refusing to show any signs of intimidation, Jesse simply nodded in response. "I'll keep it in mind." And he would. Jesse wasn't the kind of guy to deliberately toy with someone's affections. If he did make a go of it with Hanzo, it would be a genuine effort.

The question was, did he want to make that effort? And would it be worth the potential hurt if everything went wrong?


	10. Chapter 10

The quarters Hanzo had been assigned were small and spare, not at all the sort of standard he was accustomed to. He might have complained, had Genji not ‘casually’ mentioned that it was lucky they'd been permitted to skip the cadet stage, where they'd have been forced to share barracks space with other people. Many other people.

Hanzo valued his privacy far too much to put up with circumstances like that. This room might be tiny by his standards, but it was his alone. It annoyed him that Genji appeared to be handling him, but Hanzo had to admit the necessity in this case. It was going to take him a while to adjust to no longer being the most important person wherever he went.

The first thing he'd done was purchase some tatami mats to cover the cold tile floor, and a sumi-e ink painting on silk of a blue dragon to hang on his wall. The sumi-e was no true replacement for the Katsushika Hokusai original print that hung over the meditation space in his rooms in Hanamura, but it worked well enough as a focus to help calm his mind.

Tonight he was just settling into seiza before it, when a knock came on his door. Assuming it was Genji, intending to either join him in his evening meditations or - much more likely - to harass him to go out and ‘have fun’, Hanzo simply raised his voice and called, "Enter."

There was a moment's pause, and then the door swung open to reveal Jesse McCree standing on the other side. Startled, Hanzo went stiff, fighting the impulse to jump to his feet as if to defend himself from a threat. Though things were painfully awkward between him and McCree, the man would hardly be coming to attack Hanzo in his quarters.

That left the question of why McCree was there, however. He shifted from foot to foot like he couldn't stand still, holding his hat in his hand, and the expression on his face was uncomfortable and uncertain. After a long moment of silence, McCree lifted his free hand in a sort of aborted wave. "Uh. Heya. Was wonderin' if you had a few minutes to chat?"

"Chat?" Hanzo repeated, incredulous. The word implied casual, meaningless conversation, the last thing he'd expected to engage in with Jesse McCree. Let alone for the man to seek him out for that express purpose.

McCree winced, and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Talk, I mean. 'Cause we surely do need to. And first, I owe you an apology."

Now thoroughly baffled, Hanzo pushed to his feet, and gestured for McCree to enter the room. "Why would you say such a thing? You owe me nothing, let alone an apology."

As soon as the door closed behind the bigger man, the room felt like it shrank to half its already tiny size. The space filled with the rich, smoky scent McCree carried with him, even though there was no sign of his usual cigar. It was a scent that had become tangled in Hanzo's dreams, something he associated with pleasure and passion. Having it wrap around him like a sensual embrace made a shiver run down his spine that had nothing to do with the ambient temperature in the room.

Ignoring the reaction with effort, Hanzo crossed his arms and stared the man down. Difficult to pull off when McCree was a half foot taller, but Hanzo was not intimidated by sheer size.

It seemed to work, as McCree all but squirmed beneath Hanzo's gaze. "I do, though," he insisted, turning his hat around and around in his hands in a nervous gesture. "Look, I reacted badly, okay? Maybe I had some cause to, maybe I didn't. Fact is, you are exactly what you said you were, and while you might not've gone about it the best way, you were askin' for help and I damn near turned you down in a fit of pique. That's on me."

Hanzo's stare became increasingly less challenging and more bewildered as McCree spoke. Finally his brows creased as he scowled. "Did Genji put you up to this?" he demanded. It was the only reason he could think of for this sudden change in attitude from McCree. "He's been hounding me to 'cut you some slack', and as I keep telling him, I am not upset with you for how you handled my betrayal. I was the one out of line, and truly it is I who owe you the apology."

"Well, Genji mighta had a few words to say on the matter," McCree acknowledged with a self-deprecating grin. "Mostly he just explained that I was all wrong about why you've been acting like you have, and let me draw my own conclusions, though."

"Acting like I have?" It felt as though McCree was working from an entirely different script for this conversation than Hanzo. Nothing he said was ever what Hanzo expected. "I don't understand."

"Bein' all…" McCree gestured, waving his hat in the air between them as if he could somehow illustrate his meaning. "Cold and formal. Exactly like you've been doin' since I knocked on the door. Darlin', I thought you were pissed at me, and bein' passive aggressive about it, so I was gettin' angry back. And I'm sorry for that. Guess I ain't used to people bein' polite because they're actually, y'know, bein' polite."

"I have never been passive aggressive in my life," Hanzo replied, affronted by the idea. He could almost hear Genji's snorted 'yeah, right', and the imagined response drew another scowl from him. "No matter what my brother might tell you."

Despite his ire, there was a little thrill that ran through him when Jesse - McCree - called him 'darling' again. It was the first time since Hanzo had revealed the truth, though the man certainly hadn't hesitated to use the term of affection to Genji, Reyes, and anyone else who came into conversational range. The omission of the endearment when he was speaking to Hanzo had felt like a deliberate statement of McCree's anger toward him.

And, apparently, McCree had been taking Hanzo's efforts to be polite and inoffensive as exactly the opposite. How the hell did Genji make navigating social situations look so easy? Hanzo always seemed to end up tripping over misunderstandings like this.

"No, no." McCree shook his head. "It ain't like that. He told me you were just embarrassed and didn't know how else to cover it. Which, once I got over myself, seemed pretty obvious and a lot more likely. So, like I said, I owe you an apology."

"Ah." Hanzo wasn't quite certain what else to say to that. It was his turn to shift from foot to foot, like a student being scolded by his master. "As the misunderstanding occurred on both sides, perhaps we should simply call it even?"

McCree relaxed, and until that moment Hanzo hadn't realized how tense the man was. He grinned, a broad, sunny smile that made Hanzo understand the phrase 'lit up the room'. "That sounds like a plan, all right. So, uh. I guess that begs the question… what now?"

"Now?" Hanzo stared at him, confused all over again. He was starting to realize that was going to be his default state when McCree was involved.

Was McCree blushing?

"We hopin' to leave this at 'cordial workin' relationship'?" McCree clarified. "Can we work on buildin' an actual friendship? Or…" Yes, he was definitely blushing, a dull red seeping into the natural tan of his skin. "Well, or somethin' more?"

Hanzo opened his mouth, then closed it again. He would not continue repeating McCree’s words like a damn parrot. This time he forced himself to actually gather his thoughts before speaking. "What more did you have in mind?" The last thing he wanted to do was start this offered second chance with another misunderstanding.

No matter how much part of him wanted to leap to the conclusion that McCree was offering to pick up where they'd left off.

McCree's grin turned wry. "Half my damn problem has been settlin' on exactly why I was mad at you," he admitted with a chuckle. "On the one hand, I was pissed you hadn't been upfront and told me the truth before leadin' me on. But on the other hand, I was mighty riled that you didn't stay quiet just a little longer, and give us a chance to finish what we started. I had a whole lot more in mind for you than a handjob, darlin'."

Heat swept through Hanzo, and threatened to leave him trembling in its wake. Apparently McCree was indeed offering exactly what Hanzo had hoped for. But he couldn't help worrying it was yet another ticking time bomb that would eventually blow up in his face.

"Is that wise?" Hanzo tried not to sound as eager as he felt, but the unfortunate result was that he sounded dismissive and sour instead. McCree winced, and looked like he was thinking about taking the offer back. Hanzo hastened to try to explain. "We are teammates now, and must work together. Isn't… what's the phrase… fraternization among the ranks frowned upon? I would not wish to get you in trouble."

McCree's expression cleared. "Technically, yeah. But our team's kind of a special case, in a lot of ways. Reyes won't give a shit, as long as we don't let it interfere with the job. I think we've already gotten the interfering part out of the way, don't you? I mean, how much worse can it get than what we've already been dealin' with these past weeks? I ain't never gonna deliberately hurt you."

"And I would never knowingly betray you again," Hanzo agreed. McCree did have a point. Even if they tried an intimate relationship and failed to make it work, the end result couldn't be more awkward than the past few weeks. Which Reyes also knew, so he'd have reason to trust that they'd be able to handle it.

"So, is that a yes?" McCree looked hopeful, with an edge of eager heat in his eyes that burned Hanzo right down to his soul. " 'Cause I don't wanna assume, and cause more problems between us."

Was it a yes? Did Hanzo want to throw himself into the terrifying, exhilarating possibilities of a relationship with Jesse McCree? Did he want to give himself over to this man, this loud, crass, uncouth cowboy, who knew nothing of manners or propriety? Did he want to be with a man who Hanzo would never have deigned to pay attention to if he'd encountered Jesse in his old life?

Did he want to seize the chance for a life that was completely different from anything he'd ever expected?

"It is not a yes," Hanzo said, as prim and proper as he knew how to be. Jesse's expression fell, and Hanzo smirked in response. "It is, as you would doubtless say, a fuck yes."

Jesse blinked, obviously thrown by the unexpected twist. Then he grinned again, and that edge of heat was back, sharp as any samurai's blade. "I do love the way you talk, babe," he murmured, stepping in close and resting one hand on the wall above Hanzo's shoulder, "Dunno that I've ever heard anyone but Reinhardt use somethin' like ‘doubtless’ in a normal sentence."

When Jesse leaned in on his hand, it closed the distance between them further, until their chests were brushing and it felt like they were surely sharing the same air, back and forth as they breathed in and out. Hanzo shivered, but it wasn't fear or intimidation that he felt. The closeness felt like an embrace, a sensual promise of what was to come.

Hanzo answered it by fisting his hands in Jesse's shirt, pulling him closer still. "Do you wish me to keep talking? Because that would involve not kissing you, and that would be a great shame." It gave him an illicit thrill to say the words, even as he worried that he was doing it wrong. Flirting was a skill, and like most social skills, Hanzo was unpracticed in it.

Jesse didn't seem to mind, if the eager look in his eyes was any indication. "Darlin', I thought you'd never ask," he murmured, and lowered his mouth to devour Hanzo's.

Over the past weeks, Hanzo had worked hard to convince himself that sex with Jesse couldn’t possibly be as good as he remembered it. That he was blowing it out of proportion in his mind, viewing the memory through rose coloured glasses. As it turned out, he was half right. Kissing Jesse was not as good as he remembered.

It was far better.

Jesse held nothing back, his tongue demanding entrance immediately, hot and wet and licking in to rediscover the sensitive spots. Hanzo fought back, seeking into Jesse’s mouth as well, thrilling to the sound of the other man’s groans. Jesse tasted like smoke and tobacco and coffee, and it was more intoxicating than any sake Hanzo had ever drunk.

Jesse took another step forward, pinning Hanzo firmly against the wall with his larger body, pressing against him from chest to hips. He wedged one denim-clad thigh between Hanzo’s and made a rumbling sound of pleasure when he discovered how hard Hanzo already was.

Hanzo didn’t mind being pinned. Not in the least. Jesse’s solid body enveloped his and surrounded him with the feel and scent of the man, reassuring Hanzo that this was real. The iron bar in Jesse’s pants helped reinforce that realness.

Releasing Jesse’s shirt with one hand, Hanzo slid it down until he could cup his hand over the other man’s turgid cock. Jesse groaned, and Hanzo felt deliciously bold as he rubbed. The heavy denim prevented him from getting a good grip, but it was enough to leave him feeling lascivious and naughty.

For the first time, he began to see what appeal Genji might have found in rebelling. Sometimes, misbehaving was far more fun.

“Darlin’, you’re killin’ me,”Jesse moaned, breaking the kiss to trail his mouth along Hanzo’s jaw. “I been aching for you since I first realized we might still have a chance. I ain’t never been much of one for repeat performances, but I’ll sure as hell make an exception for you.”

Hanzo paused, drawing a muttered curse from Jesse. Suddenly he was unsure again. He’d thought, from the way Jesse phrased things, that this was meant to be a long-term affair between them. A relationship. Now it sounded like he was simply looking for another night of fun.

But really, what did he have to offer, that Jesse couldn’t get elsewhere? The enjoyment of initiating a virgin into pleasures of the flesh, but that would only be true the first time. Perhaps Jesse truly only wanted to finish what they’d started that night in Monte Carlo, and nothing more.

“Babe? Hanzo? What’s wrong?”

Jerked from his increasingly dismayed thoughts, Hanzo blinked up at the other man, and realized Jesse was regarding him with a concerned expression. Seeing that he had Hanzo’s attention, Jesse cupped Hanzo’s jaw and ran his thumb over his cheek.

“Darlin’, talk to me,”Jesse urged. “You went all still and dark on me. What’d I say? If I do something you don’t like, you gotta tell me. I ain’t a mind reader, but the last thing I wanna do is hurt you.”

“What? No.” Hanzo shook his head. “You have not hurt me, and I doubt you would attempt to do anything to me that I was not willing to allow.”

“Then what got your knickers in a twist all of a sudden?” Jesse looked unconvinced by Hanzo’s reassurance.

Unable to meet his eyes, Hanzo fixed his gaze on Jesse’s collarbone. “It is only…”He struggled to keep his voice level, and his expression neutral, as if the subject matter meant nothing in particular to him. “I realized I’m not sure exactly what you’re offering. Is it your intention that this be a single night’s liaison, to finish what we started? Or something ongoing?”

Jesse frowned deeply, and his gaze went distant, as if reviewing his words. Then a light appeared to dawn. “Oh! No, darlin’, I don’t mean this to be a one-off. Not if you’ll have me for more. I may not be used to repeatin', but I intend to have as many as I can get with you. But if you want me to take you out for dinner first a few times before we get to the good stuff…”He trailed off with a smirk and a knowing look.

Hanzo huffed, annoyed that Jesse obviously knew what his answer would be, but unable to give a different one. "You had best be planning to take me out in the near future. And I will do the same. But it is not necessary as a prelude."

"Prelude." Jesse chuckled, and nuzzled at Hanzo's neck again. "I'm gonna stretch my vocabulary, bein' around you. Maybe I should start keepin' track of how many words I gotta look up after you say 'em. And English ain't even your first language. You make me seem like nothin' but a backwater hick."

There was a surprising note of uncertainty in Jesse's words. It was buried beneath the lighthearted teasing, but Hanzo heard it because it struck a chord with the continued hesitance within him. For the first time, he realized he wasn't the only one who was nervous about what their relationship might bring.

It was true that Hanzo would never have given someone as uncouth as Jesse the time of day, just a few short weeks ago. On the surface, the man struck him as every bit as lazy and disrespectful as Genji had ever been, traits that Hanzo despised.

And yet, he'd discovered that Genji's seeming inability to take anything seriously had been a cover, protection against the expectations of his family rather than a natural inclination. Oh, the boy had undoubtedly enjoyed playing video games more than working, but as Hanzo understood it, that was true of most teenagers and something they tended to grow out of. Genji certainly had applied himself to their new life with a fierce dedication that Hanzo would never have believed he was capable of.

He suspected that Jesse was much the same. As they trained together, Hanzo had observed again and again that though Jesse appeared not to ever take anything seriously, when push came to shove, the man was always there at his teammate's backs, loyal and dedicated. Often with a snarky quip on the tip of his tongue, another trait he shared with Genji, but Hanzo was learning that mouthing off didn't mean a lack of focus.

"Darlin’?" Jesse was staring at him again. "Did I say somethin' else wrong?"

"Ah. No." Hanzo blushed. "I sometimes get lost in my thoughts. My apologies."

Jesse's eyes were filled with laughter, though he didn't let it out. "I had noticed you got a bit of a tendency to brood. But if your mind's driftin' off all the time, I really ain't doin' my job right."

"I am not brooding," Hanzo muttered, though he had a feeling he might be. As for the rest… "Did you mean what you said last time? That you would be perfectly happy to switch roles, and let me control our encounter? To let me, ah, 'top' I believe is the English phrase for seme."

The Japanese term carried far more connotations than simply who would receive the other. It implied domination, control, and power. Very much the qualities expected from a man. The opposite, uke, was thought of as weak, womanish, and submissive. At least, that was how Hanzo had been taught to think of them, based on off-handed derisive comments and the occasional ribald joke uttered in his presence. He didn't know if the English terms had the same extra meanings.

If so, Jesse didn't seem to care, because his smile was as easy and eager as ever. "Sure thing, if that's what you want. S'long as I get to touch you aaaall over." He put an extra ounce of drawl into the last words, his eyes travelling down over Hanzo's body. For the first time, Hanzo understood what it meant to be 'undressed by someone's eyes', and he enjoyed the sensation greatly. Then Jesse paused, and flicked his gaze back to Hanzo's face, his smile turning guilty and sheepish. "Almost all over. I haven't forgot. No touching the ink."

His left arm tingled at the very thought, as if Jesse was in fact touching it right now. Hanzo's breath caught in his throat. He had not called on the dragons, but they roused of their own accord, apparently interested in what he was doing. The tingle could have been a warning, but there was a sense of shivering anticipation to it.

"You may," Hanzo said, his voice hoarse. He had to pause to clear his throat, and try again. "You may touch wherever you like. As I said that night, it is an intimacy not meant for a fling. If this is truly a relationship, then touch is your privilege." And very much Hanzo's pleasure, he suspected.

Jesse's eyes lit up. "Well, then. We'd best get on with it. I intend to spend a while on exploring that. Your wish is my command, and all."

He started to back away, releasing Hanzo from the pressure pinning him to the wall, ceding control to Hanzo as he'd promised. Hanzo felt a pang of loss, and caught Jesse by the hips before he consciously realized the intention, holding the bigger man in place against him.

"You do not need to give way to me," he said, eyes on Jesse's collarbone again as he struggled to get the words out past that niggling sense of shame. "I only… needed to know that you would." Because surely, if Jesse was so eagerly willing to take that role himself, it did mean the other man saw none of the shame in it that Hanzo did.

Perhaps what his family had taught him was just as wrong in this as they had been about so many other things. But it would take Hanzo some time to absorb that all the way down to his soul.

Jesse seemed to understand some of his struggle, or at least read the problem in the way Hanzo couldn't look directly at him. He cupped Hanzo's jaw again, and gave him a smile that could only be described as tender. "If it helps, think of it as you tellin' me how you want me to treat you, and me doin' it. 'Cause that's exactly what we're doin', yeah?"

It did help to think of it that way, a great deal. There was surely nothing wrong with Hanzo telling his… lover… how he wished to be treated, and being obeyed. Though coming to terms with the idea of having a lover at all was apparently going to be another hurdle.

"Then kiss me," Hanzo demanded, gripping Jesse's hips tighter to encourage the other man to crowd him again. "Show me what else you had planned that night, and do not stop until I tell you to."

Jesse nuzzled at his jaw, and Hanzo felt the curve of the other man's lips as he smiled. "Be my absolute pleasure, darlin'." Then they were kissing again, and Hanzo stopped worrying about who was filling what role, and just enjoyed.

And oh, there was so much to enjoy. Jesse's hands roamed, shaping and petting over Hanzo's chest and sides, even as his tongue plunged deep into Hanzo's mouth to claim him. He had Hanzo shoved up against the wall again, thigh tight against Hanzo's rigid cock. Then Jesse caught Hanzo's wrists and lifted them, stretched up high over his head, before using one big hand to pin both to the wall there.

There were a dozen ways Hanzo could have broken free, but it didn't matter because he wasn't trying. He didn't want to try. The new position left Jesse pressed even closer against him, deliciously warm and solid, like a living second wall. Especially when his other hand returned to roaming, finding the crossed front of Hanzo's yukata and slipping inside. Gun-callused fingertips caressed smooth flesh, and Hanzo groaned when Jesse found the flat disc of his nipple and began playing there.

Hanzo wasn't particularly sensitive there, not after spending so much time training shirtless in harsh conditions. Yet Jesse's touch made him writhe, exquisitely aware of every touch, every caress. He couldn't breathe properly, mouth occupied by Jesse's and not enough air coming through his nose, and he was starting to feel lightheaded with lack of oxygen. Or perhaps with sheer pleasure.

Every breath he did draw in carried that spicy, smokey scent, as if Jesse was enveloping him inside as well as out. Hanzo surrendered himself to it, as he'd never surrendered to anything in his life, and let himself be swept away by the sensations.

It might have been a minute or an hour later when Jesse lifted his head, leaving Hanzo panting to try to catch his breath. However long it had been, it wasn't nearly long enough. "Why are you stopping?" he demanded, scowling at the other man.

Jesse was smirking, apparently well pleased with himself for his effect on Hanzo. With some justification, admittedly. "Well, now. I believe you promised me I could get an up close and personal look at that ink of yours, but that ain't gonna happen with your shirt still on. And while I'm sure it'd be all manly of me to rip it off you, I'd prob'ly look pretty silly tryin'. So, how 'bout you do a little strip tease for me, hmm?"

Heat rushed through Hanzo's cheeks - and other, lower places. His groin tightened further, making his cock jump in response, but anticipation was tempered with a faint sense of dread. "I have no idea how to do such things," he protested. "I am not… not experienced at seduction."

Genji would be able to give Jesse exactly the show he was asking for, Hanzo had little doubt of that. His brother was charming and open and utterly shameless, and probably had a great deal of both knowledge and practical experience in that area. The contrast left Hanzo all the more painfully aware of his own lack of ability.

And yet, it wasn't Genji that Jesse had come to, wanting to have not only a repeat, but a lasting relationship for the first time in his life. Had Jesse wanted Hanzo's brother, Hanzo had little doubt that Genji would have been happy to reciprocate the interest. But Jesse was here, with him, and surely that meant something.

"Quit worryin' about what you're good or bad at, or what you do or don't know," Jesse scolded him. "Everybody's gotta start somewhere, and it's plenty fun for me to be the one to introduce you to this sort of thing. Besides…" His voice dropped, and the heat in his eyes ratcheted up a notch, scorching Hanzo. "Gotta admit I like knowin' nobody else has ever touched you this way. You're all mine, babe, and I intend to keep it that way."

He released Hanzo's wrists and stepped back, spurs jingling with each step, until he sank down on the edge of Hanzo's bed. It was Western-style, not the futon he would have preferred, but that meant Jesse looked perfectly at home lounging there. He propped himself up on one hand, leaning sideways on it, and regarded Hanzo with a knowing smirk. "Go on, then."

Refusing to allow his hands to tremble, Hanzo reached for the sash securing his yukata, then thought better of it. Instead he shrugged out of the top on the left side, letting it fall to his waist, as he did when preparing to use his bow. The move left much of his chest and all of his shoulder and arm visible, the curve of his muscles making the tattoo appear to move.

Then it _was_ moving, a faint glow rising from the lines, as Hanzo shivered in response. He saw the way Jesse's eyes fixed on the ink, fascinated and aroused. "Don't ask," Hanzo warned him. "I will not explain how it works. The dragon is what it is."

"S'long as it ain't gonna explode and eat me, or whatever it does to your targets, I'm fine with that," Jesse laughed. "Whatever the explanation is, I prob'ly either won't believe it or won't understand it… or both. It's a part of you, that's all I care about. But you ain't nearly done yet. Keep goin'."

Shrugging the other side off his shoulder, Hanzo let the yukata hang around his waist as he undid the sash holding it there. Sash and top tumbled together to the tatami floor, leaving him bare from the waist up. "You need not fear being injured," Hanzo assured him, working on the ties for his pants next. "Whether or not you will be eaten is a matter of definition, however." He tried to stay casual, pretending the sensual teasing came easily to him, and was rewarded by Jesse's delighted laughter.

"See?" Jesse cocked his head, grinning. "You know what you're doin', when you let yourself relax a little. That's it," he encouraged, as Hanzo let his pants fall to join his top, exposing his full body to the cowboy's gaze. Though Hanzo had made little to no attempt to actually be sexy as he stripped, Jesse appeared quite satisfied. "Now c'mon over here and join me."

"You are still fully dressed," Hanzo complained, moving the two steps necessary to reach the bed. "I want to be skin to skin with you properly this time."

"I s'pose we can manage that," Jesse agreed, reaching up to unbutton his shirt. "Help me get the boots off, hmm?"

Kneeling before him, Hanzo tugged at the other man’s boots, mindful of the surprisingly sharp spurs. He set them aside, ignoring Jesse's chuckle at the precise way he arranged them next to each other beside the bed, then went after the man's socks. Jesse's feet were quite shapely, but it was the arch of his strong calf muscles that had Hanzo running his fingers up beneath the heavy denim, exploring the skin. The jeans were too tight to let him get far, so he travelled back down again, digging his fingers into the tight knots in Jesse's calf and feet.

"Mmm, now that's nice." Jesse was doing his purring cat impression again, the sound of his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate all the way down to Hanzo's cock. "You got magic fingers, darlin'. Can't say as I mind the view, neither. You sure do look pretty, down there."

He threaded his big hands through Hanzo's hair, tugging it free of the ribbon that tied it into a short ponytail at the crown of his head. As the dark locks fell to frame Hanzo's face, Jesse gathered strands between his fingers and tugged, a firm pressure that forced Hanzo to tip his head back until his neck arched.

His first instinct was to fight the hold, but Hanzo forced himself to stay still. He trembled with the effort of restraining himself, breath coming hard as much from reaction as arousal - though there was plenty of the latter, too. That strong, decisive hold, the way Jesse casually manipulated Hanzo to get him exactly where Jesse wanted him… oh, yes, there was absolutely a part of Hanzo that didn't mind this treatment at all. To be able to simply let go and enjoy himself, rather than worrying about what he should be doing next, was freeing.

"That's it," Jesse encouraged him, leaning over to breathe the words against Hanzo's lips. "I got you, babe. Just follow my lead."

Then they were kissing again, and Hanzo swore the experience was better each time they performed the act. He licked out, eager to taste Jesse's tongue against his, to make the other man moan in wanton need. Jesse was certainly able to make him moan easily enough, even the lightest touch overwhelming Hanzo until he couldn't hold back the sounds if he'd tried.

With the grip on his hair, Jesse urged Hanzo up off the ground, breaking the kiss. As Hanzo rose, so did Jesse, turning them so they ended with Hanzo sitting on the bed and Jesse on his feet, instead. From that position, Hanzo was at a nearly perfect height to see the straining tent in Jesse's fly. He smirked. "That looks painful," he commented, running his hands up over Jesse's thighs, kneading the muscles. "I'm sure I could do something about that."

Jesse barked a laugh. "Oh, I'm sure you could," he agreed. He gave one last tug on Hanzo's hair, then stepped back out of reach just before Hanzo would have been cupping his cock through the denim. "But I'm not gettin' distracted, this time. Up on your hands and knees, darlin'. I said I was gonna show you a good time, and I keep my promises."

He dropped his hands to his waistband, and slowly unzipped the fly of his jeans. Hanzo's gaze fixed on the zipper, following its progress with avid fascination. This was another thing he was half certain his memory must have exaggerated - the sheer size of the man.

Apparently not. The cock that sprang free as the fly came open was every bit as large as Hanzo remembered, solid as steel and flushed darker than the tan skin of Jesse's abs. Crisp curls surrounded the base, several shades darker than Jesse's hair, while his balls hung heavy beneath. The whole picture made a very attractive package, especially when Jesse cupped one hand loosely around his shaft and stroked slowly.

When Jesse cleared his throat, Hanzo jerked his gaze up, abashed to realize he was staring. It didn't help that Jesse was smirking, clearly well aware of what had distracted Hanzo. Seeing that he had Hanzo's attention, Jesse raised an eyebrow at him. "Hands and knees," he reminded Hanzo. "Unless you've changed your mind 'bout how you want this to go, after all?"

"No." Flushing at the fact that he'd needed a reminder, Hanzo shifted around to take the requested position. It left him feeling open and vulnerable and rather wanton, presenting his ass in the air for Jesse's gaze, aware that his hole must surely be visible between the cheeks.

Enticingly visible, judging by the way Jesse sucked a breath in, then let it out in a groan. "Damn, babe," he murmured, husky and heated. "That is one fine fucking ass you got there. Could bounce a quarter off those cheeks."

Baffled, Hanzo turned his head to regard Jesse over his shoulder. The man frequently spouted phrases that Hanzo had to puzzle his way through, but usually he could at least understand the root of where the idiom came from. "Why would anyone wish to do such a thing?"

Jesse laughed. "I got no earthly idea," he admitted. "It's just a saying. Means you're nice and tight." He ran his hands over the curve of Hanzo's ass, squeezing the globes. His thumbs dipped into the crack between, skimming over the more sensitive flesh. When he used his grip to pull the cheeks apart, allowing him to brush his thumb right over the puckered hole, Hanzo groaned.

Crossing his wrists in front of him, Hanzo braced his forehead on them and closed his eyes, focusing on the sensations and nothing else. "Don't we require some form of lubricant?" He'd done a bit of research since that night with Jesse, more to torture himself over lost possibilities than anything else, but the knowledge gained was coming in handy now. "I have oil meant for my sword…"

"No need. Brought some of the good stuff with me." Jesse removed his hands, and when they returned again a moment later, they were slick and cool, slippery against Hanzo's skin. "I sure as hell knew what I was hoping for out of tonight, and the last thing I was gonna do was miss out because neither of us had any supplies on hand. Relax, darlin'. Open up, and trust me. It'll feel so good, I promise it'll be worth it."

Hanzo did his best, but he couldn't entirely block out his nerves, and the resulting tension in his body. Jesse smoothed his slick fingers over Hanzo's ass, sliding into the crack and seeking his hole again. This time he didn't stop there, pressing one fingertip slowly inside, past the ring of muscle that clenched in an instinctive attempt to prevent the intrusion.

It felt… strange. That was really the best thing Hanzo could say for it. Strange, and invasive, and rather uncomfortable, to have something working its way inside him there. Disappointed, he wondered if he was missing something, or if other people simply found this act more pleasurable than he did. Wasn't there supposed to be some magic spot inside that would send pleasure shocking through him?

If so, either Hanzo didn't have that organ, or Jesse wasn't finding it. Biting his lip, Hanzo debated whether he should say that he'd changed his mind after all. If discomfort was the best he could expect from one finger's intrusion, there was truly no reason to risk hurting himself trying to take all of Jesse's girth.

Jesse caught Hanzo's left wrist, tugging his hand up off the bed. Hanzo leaned on his other hand and let Jesse lift his left arm, breathless in anticipation of what was coming.

Dipping his head, Jesse started at the dragon's head on Hanzo's wrist and ran his mouth over the ink, following the sinuous line of the dragon's body. The contact felt like a live wire trailing over his skin, but good, setting every nerve on fire. Hanzo groaned and shuddered, trembling under the onslaught, and yet Jesse had hardly begun. 

Distracted by the pleasure, he relaxed further, and Jesse's other finger slipped deeper still. The experience was still unsettling, but hardly worth noting in comparison to how good the mouth on him felt.

Darting his tongue out, Jesse started tracing the lines of the tattoo, as promised. The faint blue aura grew brighter, the skin so sensitive Hanzo swore he could feel the texture of Jesse's tongue as it flicked here and there over the ink. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the intense sensations, struggling not to let his bracing arm give out as Jesse teased him.

Warmth began to gather in his groin, accompanied by a sense of pressure that was unlike anything Hanzo had experienced before. He shivered, then gasped when that motion caused Jesse's finger to rub harder inside him, starting another wave of heat. The waves continued, one after another, each building on the last to push a little higher, a little farther, until they eventually spread through his whole body. It combined with the electric tingle of the touch on his dragon, drowning him in a tidal wave of pleasure.

It was a double assault, leaving his mind in a whirl and unable to decide what to focus on. Hanzo was shocked to feel the first stirrings of orgasm tightening his groin, though his cock hung neglected and untouched. Groaning, Hanzo unthinkingly reached down with the intention of stroking himself, craving the extra rush of sensation.

Only to have Jesse catch his hand firmly, pressing it against the mattress and stopping him. "Uh-uh," Jesse scolded him. "We're goin' at my pace. Hold your horses, darlin'."

"I need…" Hanzo's hips jerked, seeking fruitlessly for stimulation. Jesse responded by easing a second thick finger inside him, the stretch tight enough to burn, and building even more pressure within him. The orgasm was hovering just out of his reach, the need to come so strong that Hanzo literally ached for it. "Jesse!"

"I know," Jesse murmured. "Just relax and enjoy it, babe."

"How am I supposed to relax?" Hanzo demanded, squirming. "You won't… ah, gods…" Every stroke inside him pushed the frenzy of need higher. Hanzo was certain if he could touch his cock even for a moment, he would surely explode then and there, but Jesse wasn't letting go. It went on and on, until he was bucking his hips in a desperate bid for more, harder, anything that would finish him off.

"I will not beg," Hanzo warned, breathless with need. "If that's what you're hoping for." He would submit himself to pleasure, but he would keep his pride.

"That's not the point," Jesse assured him. "Though it surely would sound right pretty if you did." Shifting his weight, he draped himself along the length of Hanzo's back, bigger body pressing down. The iron bar of his cock dug into Hanzo's hip, making it clear that Jesse wanted this every bit as much as Hanzo did.

From that position he could only reach the part of the tattoo on Hanzo's shoulder, but he licked and nibbled and sucked there with dedication to the task. Shuddering, Hanzo arched into the touch, the motion pushing his ass back harder against Jesse's hand. Desire and need and arousal overwhelmed him, and he thought he might die if he wasn't permitted to come soon. 

The burn of the stretch had become sweet instead of stinging, every bit of sensation adding to the total of his pleasure. He thought he might even understand how some people took pleasure from pain, if that pain was delivered while in a heightened state such as this.

"I think you're ready," Jesse declared. His voice was rough, unsteady, suggesting he was far from in control of himself, no matter how well he was controlling Hanzo's reactions. "Breathe deep, darlin, and don't tense up on me. I know you can do it."

When he withdrew his fingers, Hanzo cried out, an instinctive protest at the loss of stimulation. He was astonished at himself. So much for not enjoying it. The sweet waves of heat that had been building and building were now ebbing instead, leaving him frustrated and unfulfilled.

Until something bigger than Jesse's fingers pressed at his entrance. Much bigger. Hanzo's first thought was indeed to hold his breath, but he fought the urge, staying as relaxed as he could. There was enough lube to ease the friction, but Jesse's sheer size made Hanzo painfully aware of every slow inch the cowboy pushed forward.

Fisting his hands in the sheets, Hanzo gritted his teeth and rode it out. He'd dealt with far worse pain than this in training. It was no worse than the strain of a pulled muscle. And if Jesse's fingers had felt that good inside, what would his cock feel like?

Fucking incredible, apparently, as Jesse pushed deep enough to grind against whatever spot his fingers had been pressed into. Hanzo shouted and bucked again, the motion rubbing the head of Jesse's cock back and forth within him, causing further waves of pleasure that left him trembling on the edge of collapse. "Jesse!"

"That's it," Jesse encouraged, voice tight with the effort of keeping control. He was trembling too, and his grip on Hanzo's hips was tight enough to possibly leave bruises behind. Hanzo suspected the other man was fighting the urge to thrust home hard and deep, easing himself in slowly instead. "I knew you could do it. Fuck, darlin', you feel so damn good. Tight and hot and desperate for more, just how I like it."

"You think… highly of yourself," Hanzo retorted, but the break in his voice in the middle of the words made his put-down not terribly effective. Jesse had every reason to think well of his skills in bed, judging by what he'd shown Hanzo so far. And it only continued to get better as they went.

Especially when Jesse finally reached around beneath Hanzo to fist his cock again, stroking with long, smooth motions in time with the rocking of his hips. He ground himself inside Hanzo, with shallow little thrusts that slowly increased in speed and depth, allowing Hanzo to work up to the eventual full force. It felt glorious, far, far beyond anything Hanzo had ever managed with his own hand, and he lost track of the world for a while, utterly immersed in pleasure.

The universe contracted, all of Hanzo's focus narrowing into the heavy, aching throb in his balls, then exploded outwards in ecstasy. Hanzo shuddered so hard he lost his balance, shaking limbs refusing to hold his weight, body convulsing as he came so hard he half thought he might die from it.

When he came back to himself he was sprawled inelegantly face down on the bed, hips pulled upward by Jesse's grip on him, giving the cowboy better leverage for his hard, fast thrusts. He was holding nothing back now, groaning each time he drove himself home. Hanzo felt nothing but pleasure, even as his overtaxed body protested the continued stimulation.

With one last, extra hard thrust, Jesse broke his rhythm and cried out, shuddering as he emptied himself into Hanzo's body. Though Hanzo had always been vaguely repulsed by the idea of someone else's seed inside him, now he revelled in the hot spurts he could feel, in each twitch of Jesse's cock deep within. He wallowed in the sounds Jesse made, too guttural to be called groans, too full of pleasure to be growls.

He had done that for Jesse, given his lover such pleasure that Jesse lost himself in it utterly. Just as he'd caused Hanzo to be lost in pleasure in turn. It was a shockingly empowering feeling, knowing he could have that effect on another human being. On this human being, in particular, because Hanzo couldn't imagine ever letting anyone else take such liberties with his person.

At last Jesse collapsed over him, a heavy weight that should have been too much, but which felt comforting and reassuring to Hanzo's overwrought body. Hanzo was too weak to move, his muscles lax with pleasure, but with Jesse draped over him, he could relax and feel safe.

"Damn, darlin'." Jesse was so hoarse as to be nearly unintelligible, but the lazy, sated warmth in his tone was clear. "That was even better than I knew it'd be. How d'you feel?" To Hanzo's dismay, Jesse pushed up on his hands and knees, easing his softening cock out of Hanzo's body.

Hanzo grunted a protest at the loss, the change making him uncomfortably aware of how the strained muscles ached, and the empty feeling left behind. For all that he hadn't been certain he wanted Jesse's cock in him at all, now he couldn't wait to have it back. Somehow, he summoned enough presence of mind for actual words. "I suppose that was an acceptable effort."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Hanzo worried they would be taken the wrong way. But Jesse only chuckled, shifting onto his side and snuggling in close to Hanzo, nuzzling at the nape of his neck again. "Acceptable, hmm? Guess I'll have to keep workin' to improve. Might take some practice. Lots of it, in fact."

"So long as the only practice you're getting is with me, I shall make myself available whenever possible." A sweet lassitude crept through Hanzo's limbs, making it impossible to move. His eyes were closing despite his best attempts to keep them open, and he was going to lose the battle to sleep far too soon. "Will you stay the night?"

To his disgust, the last words sounded shy, which was not the image he was going for. Then again, Jesse's response was to stroke his hand from Hanzo's shoulder down to his ass, a reassuring caress, so that was all right.

"You'd have a tough time gettin' rid of me," Jesse replied. He fumbled with something, then pulled the sheet over both of them, protecting their sweat-slick skin from the cool air. That done, he cuddled in close again, sliding his arm around Hanzo's broad shoulders. "Afraid you're stuck with me for the duration. And I'm all yours."

There were so many things Hanzo wanted to say in response, both teasing and serious. In the haze of sleep and jumble of his thoughts, what slipped out was the one thing he hadn't meant to say. "I love you, Jesse."

Jesse went still against him. Panic sent adrenaline surging through Hanzo, pushing sleep to the periphery for a moment. Rolling onto his side, he faced Jesse, searching the other man's expression, afraid of what he would find there.

Surprise. Outright shock, actually. Disbelief. Protest. And then…

An outpouring of fierce affection in return. "Love you too, Hanzo," Jesse murmured. For once the lack of endearment felt far from distancing, reaffirming that it was indeed Hanzo that Jesse's feelings were aimed at. "Now there's words I never thought I'd say. Guess you're just that special. Sure as hell there ain't nobody else like you out there."

"Indeed." Smug and satisfied, Hanzo tucked his head beneath Jesse's chin, resting his cheek against the other man's chest and listening to the steady rhythm of Jesse's heartbeat. The lights dimmed automatically, the base computer recognizing that they were settling to rest for the night. "Get some sleep, cowboy. You'll need your energy for the next performance in the morning."

Chuckling, Jesse wrapped his arms around Hanzo in turn. He nuzzled at Hanzo's left shoulder again, kissing the lines of ink as if showing affection for the dragon too. "Lookin' forward to it, darlin'."

Drifting into sleep, Hanzo reflected that he almost felt obligated to send a thank you note to the Shimada elders. If not for their foolish attempt to set him directly against Genji, he would never have had a chance to experience any of this. Freedom, choice, control over his own destiny.

And most of all, what it felt like to be loved.


End file.
